


Genesis

by Forestwater



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Possession, Prequel, Romance, Stalking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 88,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/pseuds/Forestwater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three goddesses of Hyrule, contrary to popular belief, aren't the only deities. They have two siblings; shunted to the side to rule over ugly and barren domains, they sit in the darkness and plot their revenge, beginning with a relic meant to counter their sisters' most powerful token. And if innocent people have to suffer for the cause, what is that to a god? Prequel to OOT.</p><p>The story of a dark Triforce, Princess Zelda’s parents, and a very young Impa, Nabooru, and Ganondorf. Hyrule is being formed, and the stage is being set. Curious about the origins?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dark Triforce

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place before Ocarina of Time, focusing on the generation before Link and Zelda. It is also a prequel to a post-OOT story that will not be put up here until it's made less terrible. This means there are several OCs (because how much do we know about Zelda's parents, really?), and if you're not a fan of world-building and really want to see Link and Navi and stuff, you're not going to like this.

"Demi!" Dimitri straightened, looking around for the voice. "Demi!" A three-year-old waddled out of a nearby hut. She hugged him around the knees. "Where ya goin'?" she asked, looking up at him with her blue eyes filled with adoration.

Dimitri laughed and placed her on his shoulders. "To school."

She stared down at him, pulling at his hair. "Why?"

"Because I have to, that's why."

"Oh." She looked down at him, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed in a thoughtful expression that was far too old for her face. "Do ya have to go really soon?"

He shrugged, rocking back on his heels and making her squeal with a combination of delight and terror. "Not really," he said, grinning up at her.

She smiled, her pudgy cheeks dimpling. "Can we go in the water?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he tossed his head like a horse's and charged into the ocean. Waves crashed over them, and he threw her into the air, catching her again a second later. "Go horsy!" she cried, kicking the sides of his neck and giggling.

"Emilia!" The voice cut through the air, making them both flinch. A young woman with hair tied in a tight bun ran down to them, stopping at the water. "Demi, give her to me."

He handed Emilia to her. "Jeez, Zel," he said, giving her a wounded look so exaggerated that Emilia burst into hysterical laughter, squirming in the woman's arms.

Unamused, she stared at him, her eyes blue and green and irritated. "You could have gotten her killed," she said, her words clipped. "And aren't you supposed to be at school?"

"Aren't you?"

She looked down. "Can't. I have to work."

"Don't you  _ever_  take a break?"

"Who has time for breaks?" She looked puzzled, as if the issue had really never occurred to her before. "Everyone must work."

Demi shrugged. "Well, sure, but look at me, Zelda. I take breaks. I have fun."

"You do." The  _but you are a lazy bum and are destined for the poorhouse_ was implied. "But not all of us have the luxury."

He kicked at the water, splashing up droplets that glittered in the sun. They were beautiful, but Zelda didn't see them. Her gaze cut through the drops without taking them in, her brows furrowed into lines far too deep for someone so young. "Hey, Zel? Why don't you come out with me tonight? You're not working after ten, are you?"

She opened her mouth to argue, then saw something like sincerity on Demi's face and merely shook her head. He grinned and continued, "Then come out around eleven. Meet me right here." He waited a minute for her to complain, roll her eyes, say anything, but she didn't. After a moment he said, "Fun isn't a luxury, Zel. It's a right and a responsibility." He leaned in and put his forehead against hers, noticing but ignoring Emilia's giggle. "Besides, too much worry will wrinkle that pretty little forehead of yours and turn your hair all gray. And what kind of girl wants that?"

With a gasp of disgust and horror, she shoved him away. "Of all the —" She was sputtering, her face bright red. Still, he'd seen the corners of her mouth twitch. He  _had._

So he knew she'd be there. She'd be short-tempered and huffy, but he could handle that.

He'd had years of experience.

* * *

Zelda looked up at the sky, her eyes wide and sparkling. "It's so beautiful," she breathed, digging her toes into the soft white sand.

Demi smirked at her. "Is this enjoyment that I'm seeing, Zel? Are you having fun?"

She looked at him, surprised and a little scandalized. "I can have fun," she said, fiddling with her hair. "Just never with you."

"Pull that bun out," he said. "I think it's cutting off the circulation to your brain. It's a tragic thing, really. Kills your 'fun gland'. I think it's reversible, though. If you'd just —" He reached over and grabbed her hair, trying to remove the band of leather keeping her hair in place.

She twisted away from him with a shriek that almost —  _almost_  — turned into a laugh. Her fingers danced in elegant spirals around her bun, releasing the silvery-blonde hair in a curtain that hung around her face and draped over her shoulders. It made her look years younger. "There. Does this satisfy you?"

"It does," he said cheerfully, and continued walking along the waterline. After a few moments of deliberation, she followed, keeping her gaze divided between the water and the sky and far from his own. He waited for her to say something, but she seemed happy with the silence, so he spoke. "You're looking around like you haven't lived here your whole life."

"It feels like I haven't," she said. "Everything's so wonderful and new. I . . . I guess I never looked at it before. The water, though . . . do you see the sparkles? And the sky! So many stars!" She craned her head back, looking up with childlike wonder.

"This is what the real world looks like, Zelda. You'd appreciate it a lot more if you didn't wander around with your panties in a wad all the time."

She froze, the look of awe wiped off her face as though with a rag. Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she glared at him for a moment in speechless horror. Then she turned around, her wave of hair hitting him in the face, and stormed up the beach.

He hurried after her, kicking up sand and water. "Zel? Zel! Come back! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!  _I'M SORRY!"_ He grabbed her arm and turned her around. She glowered down at their feet, her breasts heaving with indignation and fury. He held her shoulders and spoke in a low, fast rush. "Listen, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I . . . I don't talk to many girls, so I forget that you can't say certain things to girls that you can say to guys. I'm sorry." This last sounded so plaintive, like a little boy who knows he's done something wrong but doesn't know how to fix it; he only knows that saying "I'm sorry" is supposed to make things right somehow.

She looked up at him, the anger fading from her eyes. "You talk about your male friends' panties?" she asked, a hint of a smile on her face.

"Well, no. Not really. But guys talk about different stuff than girls do. You know?"

"Of course I do." Zelda held her head high and fixed her gaze once more on the water. "Girls talk about . . . about more civilized things."

He sidestepped so that he was closer to her. "What do you and your friends talk about?"

Once again he saw a hint of pink spread across her face and neck. "A lot!"

His hand slipped into hers as he stopped walking. She slowed, too, her hand limp and cold in his. "Zel, I know you don't have any friends."

Like lightning, she snatched her hand away from him. "Of course I do!" she snarled. "And we talk all the time! About arts. And . . . and literature."

"I don't think conversations with Emilia about 'Binky the Big Goron' count here."

"I have friends!"

"Name some." His voice was soft but insistent, and she looked away.

"T-there's . . . Ravena, and . . ."

Dimitri stopped walking, their conversation forgotten. "What's that?"

She whirled around and scrambled to his side. "What's what?" she asked with a far-from-subtle sigh of relief.

"That." It was lying about thirty yards away, a shiny spot nestled in a crater of dry sand, like someone had dropped it there. He jogged up to it and knelt down, his fingers almost brushing its glossy surface. From here, the moonlight didn't reflect off of it and turn it silver, and he could see that it was actually black. It was cut into a perfect triangle.

Zelda stood over him, craning her neck to see it. "It would make a nice paperweight, I suppose." She looked out at the water, which was lapping at their toes and turning hers numb. "It must have washed in from the ocean."

"No, that doesn't make sense. We're at high tide right now, and this is still in the dry sand." He looked up at the sky. "Could it have fallen? That's a pretty deep hole it made. . . ."

Zelda shrugged, shivering. "When did it get cold?"

Dimitri plopped onto the sand, sitting cross-legged, and patted the ground next to him. "Plenty of sand for everyone, Zel." He leaned over it, shifting his upper body from side to side and watching the moonlight slide across its surface. "I guess it's kind of pretty."

"Kind of." She sat down next to him, tucking her skirt over her knees and under her thighs. "It looks cold, though. Is it?" Her hand reached out to touch it, then pulled back. "Oh!" She grabbed his arm; her palm was as cold as the water on their feet. "It's freezing!"

"Really?" He held his hand above it. "What are you talking about? It's radiating warmth."

She looked at him with huge blue eyes. "But I couldn't even  _touch_  it, it was so cold. How . . . ?"

He pressed his palm against the triangle. "It's warm," he said. "Not quite  _hot,_ but warm." He picked it up and held it in both hands. "Heavy, too."

"I don't understand." Zelda tried once again to touch it, but shook her head and pulled back. "No, this is . . . weird. I don't like it. It's still far too cold for me."

Dimitri tossed it from one hand to the other. "Well I like it," he said. "I think it's cool." He held it up to the light, appraising it. "And it  _would_  make a nice paperweight."

Zelda grabbed his arm, afraid and not sure why. "No, Demi, please don't. I'll buy you a better paperweight, I promise. Prettier . . . or cooler, or something. But just throw that thing into the ocean. It doesn't make sense."

"You have to have everything make sense, Zel?" he said, and turned to smile at her. She thought it was supposed to be friendly, or teasing, or something, but it just came across as menacing. "Consider this as something to challenge that huge brain of yours:  _How can something reach the beach without coming from the ocean, and how can it be both ice-cold and warm as a wool sweater?_ " He laughed, sounding a little strange. "It's like an ancient joke. Riddle me this, Zelda."

"I don't care what the answer is," she said, backing away. "I just want that thing away from me."

He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay, Zel." He slipped it into his pocket. "It's like it was never there." But she could see the outline of it poking against the fabric of his shorts, and didn't like the way he was still smiling at her, like this was one big hilarious joke at her expense. He held out his hand to her. "Would you like to keep walking?"

Part of her did. Part of her really liked Dimitri, and thought that he was the only human contact she was likely to have above the age of four and below the age of forty. That part of her kept noticing that his arms were tanned and somewhat muscled, and wondered what kind of physical labor he did, and how she'd never seen him at it; she worked everywhere, and had seen all the other people their age at their daily jobs. That part of her also liked the funny way his black hair curled down over his forehead, and around his ears, and . . . well, it curled in every direction. It was cute, a hint of childish innocence that appealed to her the way the splash of cinnamon-colored freckles across his nose and cheeks appealed to her. It made him look young and unworried, the exact opposite of herself. There was something she liked about that. Besides, she had the sneaking suspicion that he wanted to kiss her — had for a while, actually. And now that she knew he wasn't just some good-for-nothing jerk, or a bum . . . maybe she wouldn't mind that.

But as she looked down at his hand, the part of her that wasn't admiring how strong and solid it looked knew that it would be warm. Far warmer than it should be. And she knew that she would feel that warmth pressing against her own skin, like it was trying to burrow into her, and if they went walking down the street, her thigh might brush against his, and she would feel the strange dark triangle against her, and that would be too much to stand. It would make her scream, she knew it.

Also, she didn't like the turn he was taking. There was something about his attitude that scared her. She supposed it could have always been there, and only came out of its dormancy because he wasn't getting his way, but she didn't believe that. She thought it had something to do with that weird triangle, that relic cast from the ocean or sky, and until it was gone, she didn't want any part of this new Dimitri. So she stepped back, mumbled, "No, thank you, I have to get to bed," and hurried back up the beach, kicking up sand the entire way.

* * *

Dimitri knocked on the door to the small hut the next afternoon. "Zelda?" he called. There was no answer. "Zel?" He opened the door.

It was empty.

"Dimitri? What are you doing here?" He turned around to see Zelda's mother in the doorway, holding a basket of fruit. She looked at him, confused.

"I'm looking for Zelda."

She cocked her head to the side. "Oh, you just missed her. She didn't say where she was going, but I'm sure she hasn't gone far. I'd check around her usual places — she's probably working, of course." Her eyes grew distant and a little misty. "Such a hard-working girl," she murmured. "I don't know what we'd do with her."

"That's . . . that's wonderful," he said. He looked down at the floor, where there was a lone sock lying on the wood. "Did she . . . pack?"

"Oh, yes. She said she'd be working overnight somewhere, and packed up a bag to take with her. It was a lot for just one night; I think she's working on something down by the beach, or possibly inland, near the swamps, and didn't want to sleep in messy clothing. She's so clever that way."

"Yes. Of course she is." Unwilling to waste his entire day listening to a prematurely senile woman prattle on about the praises of Zelda, and feeling the growing concern that the woman was very mistaken about Zelda's whereabouts and intentions, he thanked her and hurried out the door as fast as politeness would allow.

* * *

Zelda peered around the corner of her house and watched Dimitri enter. Praying to Din that he didn't see her, she ran to his hut on top of the hill. The folded paper was clutched in her hand, covered in sweaty fingerprints, and when she reached his front door, she unfolded it and re-read what she had written:

_Demi —_

_I'm gone by now. You probably know that already, but if you don't, you deserve to know. My family doesn't, and I beg you not to tell them. They'll find out soon enough, and I don't want you to be the one who has to bear the bad news. Please help them if you can, but I know that you have your grandfather to worry about. My affairs are as settled as they can be, and I left what I could to them._

_I have to leave. I'm afraid, and I don't want to be on the same island with that thing. I know you don't understand, and that this seems like some silly whim to you, but it's real to me. I'm scared, Demi, and it's just getting worse with every second I stay here. Please try to understand, and if you can, try to forgive me._

_— Zelda_

She considered writing some sort of post-script, something to tell him that he meant more to her than anyone who wasn't her family - not just because he was the only person outside of her family to talk to her, but because he seemed to care about her happiness. Or had, for an hour or two.

Zelda looked down at the last paragraph —  _I'm scared, Demi —_ and ripped it off the paper, folding it up and slipping it into her apron pocket. That was stupid, and weak, and there was absolutely no point in keeping it. He wouldn't care, anyway. He was changing, and she had the feeling that he would care about less and less as the days went by.

She slipped the torn note between the door and its frame and turned toward the docks. If she could get out before he found the note, she would be free.

* * *

_She's gone._

_She's left for good._

_What do I do now?_

Dimitri ignored these thoughts for the most part. They wouldn't do him any good, and they came from a dark corner of his mind. If he poked around those thoughts for too long, frightening things might crawl up out of the darkness. Things like maybe Zelda had a reason for leaving, and maybe the reason was a good one.

And that maybe that reason had something to do with the increasingly warm, metallic triangle that he had in his pocket.

There were other, more frivolous things hidden in that corner, though. Things about her hair, silvery and shiny and somehow the exact same color in both sunshine and moonlight. Her smile, rare and reluctant, yet bright and sunny despite her best attempts to keep it down. Her eyes, her breasts, her personality, which had just seemed to be appearing from under an iron shell of workaholism. He'd started to like them all about a year ago, when she had begun taking care of Emilia, who had very recently graduated from his swim class. Now . . . they were part of his routine, and it would be strange without them.

He reached the docks, which were never very lively (there was little their small town had to offer beyond seafood and swamp) but today were dead. Zelda was easy to spot, even with the hood of her cloak pulled up over her head; she was the only person out there. Later, the docks would be swarming with fishermen home from the ocean, trying to get everything packaged away for market, and earlier there would have been the men trying to sell there wares. Had Zelda tried to leave then, he would never have been able to find her. Now, however, there was only one lonely fisherman waiting, trying to find someone to sell his last few fish to.

She was standing near one of the few boats waiting to depart.  _Mian Islands to Hyrule,_ the poorly-carved wooden sign said. No one waited to get on with her. The boat was almost empty, too; Piquo, their home island, must have been the very first stop.

"Zelda!"

She turned, and he thought he saw her cringe. She muttered something to the captain, who held up one hand and then went onto the ship. She ushered him over. "Demi, I have five minutes. What is it?"

"Why are you going?"

"I just have to," she said, glancing down at his pocket. The triangle had gotten even warmer now, almost unpleasantly so. "I can't stay here forever."

"Why not? What else do you have to do?" When she didn't answer, he took her by the upper arm. "Listen, Zelda, your family needs you. Your mom said, 'I don't know what we'd do without her.' Do you have  _any_ idea how selfish your being, leaving your poor mother to work on her own?"

She pulled away from him. "Don't you dare try to guilt me into this! You're the one who's chasing me off this island!"

He froze. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she snarled. She reached into her apron and pulled out a ripped piece of paper. "There's something wrong with that" — she pointed to his pocket, where the outline of the object was visible — "and there's something wrong with you. Fuck you, Demi. I'm leaving." She shoved the piece of paper into his hand and ran for the boat.

* * *

Dimitri wandered back down the beach. It was late. Midnight? Maybe later? It didn't matter, anyway. He wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon, so why not wander and enjoy the night?

He didn't understand what Zelda's problem was. She was being ridiculous, acting all scared of nothing. Hell, she was being insane. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the object. It was warm, and seemed to vibrate whenever he spoke. "You're nothing to be scared of," he said, and it thrummed. "Just a pretty little paperweight, right?" He held it and angled it to the moonlight so that he could see his reflection. "There I am," he said with a smile. "Nothing to be be scared of, either."

His reflection smiled back at him, then swam and distorted. He watched, fascinated, as it blurred. His hair turned from black to brown, and his eyes flashed a muddy red. Though Dimitri's smile had faded, the reflection beamed brighter, its lips pulling back to reveal yellowed fangs. They dripped with something that looked black in the waning moonlight. At the same time the triangle grew unbearably hot. He yelped and dropped it, where it glittered in the sand, looking helpless and shiny.

He sat down in front of it, reached out to pick it up, and then pulled away. "What is it about you?" he asked. "What  _are_  you?"

 _Well,_ his mind — at least, he assumed it was his mind — said,  _you'll never know unless you touch it, right?_

Dimitri picked it up. It had gone back to its normal temperature, and was comforting against the ocean spray and the cold sand. And, when he turned it to face the light, his reflection had returned to normal, too. "What . . . what do you want?" He felt stupid asking it, considering that he was supposed to be a mature, sane young adult, but it was hard the shake the feeling that the triangle was sentient. "Vibrate once for yes, twice for no?"

_"I can do better than that."_

Dimitri looked around. That had definitely been an audible voice, but there was nothing there. The triangle suddenly thrummed, shaking in his hands hard enough that he almost dropped it. Clutching it with fingers that were beginning to shake, he stared down at it with wide eyes. "Uh . . . triangle?" he said, feeling more unsure by the minute. Why hadn't he just thrown it into the ocean in the first place?

_"I can help you."_

It began to get warmer, to the point where it almost hurt, but instead of letting go, he held on tighter, grimacing as his skin slowly began to blister.

_"I can save you."_

The heat suddenly became searing, to the point where Dimitri expected it to burst into flame. He moaned, bending over double and clutching the relic to his chest.

_"I can make you more than you could ever imagine."_

"What are you?" he gasped around a tongue that felt like it was on fire.

_"I am the Dark Triforce. That is all you need to know."_

"Demi! DEMI!"

Hands grabbed his shoulders and tightened into little claws, the fingernails digging into his flesh. He turned around and face his assailant. His eyes locked on hers, and his face relaxed. It wasn't relaxed like he'd felt relief from the burning; it was like he had somehow been drugged.

"Emilia?" His face smiled, and it looked perfectly natural — at least around the mouth. If she'd followed the smile up to his eyes and seen that they were cold and dead, she probably would have started screaming. However, her three-year-old mind saw a smiley mouth and a familiar face and didn't bother to look deeper, and so she beamed. His arms picked her up and set her on his hip, bouncing her up and down once or twice. "What are you still doing up? You should be sleeping."

"Sleepin'," she giggled. "I wanna be 'wake."

His body set her on the ground. "You need to get to bed, Emilia. It's late, and I don't really have time to play with you."

Her eyes widened and misted. "But . . . I wanna."

 _I wanna._ Probably the two most annoying words in any language. Dimitri's mouth smiled, though, and said, "Sure, Emilia. Why not go swimming?"

"Will you come?" She hugged his neck, her body warm and wiggly and sandy. His eyebrows furrowed into a grimace for a second. Still his mouth said, "Of course, Emilia. I was counting on it."

By the time Dimitri became aware of what he was doing, Emilia's body was cold and still, sand caked to her wet body and stuck in her unseeing eyes and gaping mouth, and there was a black triangle etched into his hand.


	2. Running Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone tries to flee the Dark Triforce, but it's easier for some than for others.

Zelda sat on the edge of the deck, leaning over the railing and looking out at the water. In the distance she could make out flickering lights, though she couldn't tell yet what they were. Either a forest was on fire, or she was getting her first glimpse of a city.

"Miss?"

She looked up, her eyes widening. She relaxed a bit; for a second she'd expected to see Dimitri, his hair dripping with salty water. Still, there was nothing she wanted to do less at that moment than talk to anyone. "What," she said, flattening the word.

"May I sit?" a young man asked. He was wearing a dark cloak, so she couldn't see his face beyond a larger-than-average nose that stuck out into the light. The only distinguishing object that she could see was a large silver ring on his right middle finger. The center was some large green-and-blue stone. She'd never seen anyone wearing something so rich. She shrugged and ducked her head, very aware of her plain peasant dress, apron, and leather shoes, all of which were smudged with dirt and coated with a thin layer of sand.

He sat across from Zelda and studied her. She pulled her hair out of its leather band and pulled it over both shoulders so it would hide her face somewhat. "You can call me James," he said.

"Zelda," she muttered, unsure of how to talk to someone of such high social standing. Whoever this man was, he was certainly no Dimitri. Was she supposed to call him "sir"?

He didn't seem to think that she was disrespectful. On the contrary, he seemed perfectly at ease. Maybe it was something about being rich that made one friendly. "I'm from Hyrule," he said. "Well, the mainland. What about you?"

"Piquo."

"Oh! That little shore? I love it there!" He went on about how lovely it was, how the weather was never too hot or cold, and how the people were always so nice. "They  _do_ all seem to be a little monosyllabic," he said, grinning. "I suppose it's a shared trait?"

It sounded like her neighbors to fall silent under the gaze of such a clearly noble personage; she wasn't surprised that he didn't get much in the way of conversation out of them. "I suppose so," she said, trying not to sound offended.

James told a story about a drunken pirate he'd met — or maybe it was about his toe fungus; Zelda wasn't listening. She stared out the window, drinking in the sights and sounds and making an occasional "Uh-huh" or "Hmm" whenever it seemed appropriate. Every once in a while thoughts of Dimitri or the strange object would flit across her mind, but whenever that happened she would turn her ears toward James and catch a random phrase or two, and the thoughts would dart back into whatever dreary, dank place they'd come from.

"Miss Zelda? May I ask you a rather personal question?"

Zelda turned to him, her shoulders hunched. "You can ask," she said, wondering what it could be about. Her friends or family? What she did for fun? Why she left Piquo? That seemed most likely, since he was enamored with the place. She had no idea what she could say to him. She'd have to make up something.

"You haven't said more than two words since I sat down," he said.

"That's not a question." Still, she relaxed. Whatever he had to ask couldn't be worse than what she'd thought.

"I was getting to it. Do I make you nervous or something? Angry, maybe? Or do you all just have very short conversations in Piquo?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she had nothing to say. "You don't make me angry," she said, and turned back to the view. "And you don't make me nervous anymore."

"Why not?" he asked.

Zelda turned to him, and though she couldn't see where his eyes were, she tried to meet them, and smiled. "I learned that you're human."

* * *

The boat lurched to stop, bobbing in the clear water. He got up and waited. Zelda lay slouched against the railing, where she had slumped about a half hour after they'd finished talking. He cleared his throat. Nothing. "Miss Zelda?"

She started, and turned around. He was surprised yet again at her shockingly blue eyes. "What?"

"We're at Hyrule."

"Oh! Thanks." She brushed past him and onto the landing pier. He followed her, not  _exactly_ because she was pretty and he liked her. It was mostly because they happened to be going in the same direction, more or less, and she didn't seem like she had ever stepped off of Piquo in her entire life. If she needed a helping hand, he wanted to be there. He noted that she didn't move with the delicacy of most nobles or even common citizens. She loped along with the grace of a Goron, completely unaware of anyone she brushed past.

They slipped through the crowds and out of the seaside village, entering the huge, empty plains of Hyrule Field. Zelda paused at the edge of the field, her eyes huge at the sight of the sea of grasses. He knew that there was nothing that even came close to this on her home island. He was debating whether or not to go talk to her when some guy the size of a small house smashed into her on his way out of the village.

"Hey!" he yelled drunkenly, waving his arms. He looked down at her and smiled slowly, revealing yellow teeth. "What do we have here?"

* * *

"Whazza purdy thang like yeh doin' 'round 'ere all by yerself?" he slurred, leaning in close to Zelda. The scent of alcohol was enough to make her eyes water and her throat tighten with thirst. She needed a good drink.

She puffed out her chest and grinned up at him. Ah, no rich nobleman to deal with here. She could handle drunken louts with ease; she'd been one a time or two, when her parents were asleep and the workload was too much to handle. At times like that, when she'd wanted to cry with stress and exhaustion, the guitar wafting on ocean breezes from the bar was like a siren's call to a lonely virgin. "Who says I'm by myself?" she asked, stepping in close to him. "I'm with you, aren't I?"

"I . . . y'are?"

"Mmm-hmm." She hooked her arm through his, and when he didn't grab her right then and there, she knew she'd guessed right about his character. This man wasn't some sort of rapist or murderer — he was just some guy who'd had a little too much beer and a little too little touch. "You sure your girlfriend won't mind?" she crooned, hoping against hope that he did  _have_  a girlfriend.

"Who? Clarine?" For a second he looked nervous, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "She here?"

She shrugged. "I just saw some beautiful girl poking around looking for you. Is that her?" When his eyes widened she glanced over her shoulder at the throng and pointed. "There, see? She doesn't look very happy . . ."

He shoved her away, flinging her to the ground, and sprinted into the group of people. She heard him shout, "I didn't mean it, Clarine, I swear! She —" before he was swallowed up by the crowd.

Zelda sighed, and sniffed her shoulder, which had been pressed into his armpit when she'd linked arms with him. It smelled like beer and male sweat, and she cringed. "Did you ever see those kinds of 'quaint little townsfolk' when you visited Piquo? Because chances are that they were crawling around somewhere."

* * *

He froze. Damn. She wasn't talking to him, was she?

Zelda turned and looked at him, but since she looked more entertained than angry, he shook his head. "No, Miss, I didn't, but I'm sure they were not as bad as that foul —"

 _"'That'_  was just a normal man. There was nothing wrong with him," she said, her eyes suddenly cold rather than amused. "Why have you been following me?"

"I . . . don't know." He didn't need to see her eyes narrow to know that that was a bad answer. "Well, I mean, you didn't seem like you had anywhere to go, and you looked sort of lost, so I was going to make sure you were all right. I wasn't sure you could take care of yourself — but I was wrong, of course, that was wonderful the way you handled him — and so I just . . . you know . . ." He was digging his own grave. "I wanted to help," he finished.

"Thank you,  _sir_ , but I doubt that Hyrule is that dangerous. I've seen worse back in the bar at Piquo. Hell, I've  _been —"_ She stopped and looked away. "Everyone here seems like a pushover to me."

"You've been here for maybe half an hour. That's not a very long time. And there  _are_ more dangerous people." He felt a sudden need to protect his people . . . by proving they were dangerous. Odd, how life turned like that.

"Really. Like who?"

"The Gerudo." He said this in a dramatic whisper, certain the women's fame had spread far beyond Hyrule's mainland borders.

Her eyebrows twitched up. "The who?"

"They're . . . they're fighters. And they're scary. And they could attack us at any moment. So you should be wary." After a moment of silence, where she looked unimpressed and he felt like more of a loser than he'd ever expected to that day, he said, "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Not yet," she said. "But believe me, I'm working on it. If anything I can always go find that drunk guy. He seemed pretty hospitable . . ."

"Why don't you come with me? I can give you a room and a couple of meals, if you'd like. It's too late to try and find a place tonight."

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I don't trust anyone whose face I can't see. At least, not enough to go home with them."

He shrugged. "Okay, Miss Zelda. If you insist." He pulled his hood down, and she saw his face. His nose was long and a little thick, and easily the most defining feature of his face. But when she looked past that at his eyes, she noticed that they were gray and rather pale. In fact, everything about him was a little pale, from his blond hair to his skin, which was fairer than any she'd ever seen on her island of near-constant sun. He was a little older than she was — if she had to guess, she'd peg him at about twenty-two or so — and soft, like he'd never really done much in the way of work. He smiled, and she noticed that, though his teeth were all white, they were a little crooked, and he had a slight gap between his top front teeth that made him look much younger. "Now," he said. "Will you come stay at my home? Trust me, there are plenty of rooms."

"I'm sure there are," she said. "It's one of the benefits of being rich, right?"

He laughed. "Of course. Why else would we bother?" He winked at her and put a hand on her back. "May I escort you, Miss Zelda, through Hyrule Castle Market Town, this lovely village we're coming up upon?"

"It looks locked," Zelda said, looking up at the drawbridge.

"Allow me." He rapped three times, hard, on the drawbridge, and a soldier poked his head over the wall.

"State your name and business."

"The prince. Royal business." Zelda froze and stared at him, her eyes huge with incredulity. She didn't look away from his face as they passed into the town, nor did she even glance at the cute little houses that lined the market square. As they walked, he cleared his throat and looked down at the cobblestones beneath their feet. "Yes?" he asked, a faint pink spreading over his ears and down his neck.

"You're a liar."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, I suppose I am," he said. "And I am sor —"

"You're not the prince."

He stopped mid-sentence, and turned to stare at her. "What?" He gestured to himself. "You have seen me. You must know that I'm the prince."

"No," she said. "I may not know what the prince looks like, but every fool knows that his name is Daphnes Nohanson Hyrule. You're not him."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He reached into one of his cloak pockets and pulled out a thin gold crown, setting it on top of his head. "My name _is_ Daphnes," he said, "much to my shame. And I  _am_ the prince of Hyrule."

There was a moment of silence as she puzzled that out, and then she shook her head. "Farore," she whispered. "But . . . why did you lie, then? And why were you wearing that cloak?"

He turned to her then, his eyebrows raised. "Miss Zelda, if I had walked up to you and said, 'Hello, I am Daphnes Hyrule,' would you have said two words to me?" When she didn't respond, he nodded. "There's something about royalty that makes life outside the castle a lot more difficult. I just don't want the trouble." He picked up a pebble and threw it into the town square's fountain, staring down at the ripples it made. "James was my uncle, actually," he said. "A wonderful man, before he died."

"I-I'm sorry," Zelda said, feeling both guilty and a little awkward at the sudden maudlin moment.

He shook his head. "I chose the name because he was always confident. I like the feeling I get when I remember him." He shrugged and looked down again. "I like being confident."

"You're not usually?"

"I don't know," he said, and looked up at her with a pleading, puppy-dog expression. "I suppose not. Right now I feel like a fool."

She smiled at him, and held out her arm. "Weren't you going to escort me to your home, Your Highness?"

* * *

It was huge. Zelda knew that she probably shoudl have guessed that, considering he was a prince, but she still hadn't imagined the hugeness of the castle. It was colossal. Enormous. It was almost as big as Piquo.

Daphnes noticed her expression and blushed. "It's not as scary as it looks," he said.

"It looks terrifying."

"Trust me, the scariest thing in here is my mother." He nodded at two of the guards, who pulled open the doors. Zelda would have made a comment about how he couldn't even open his own door, but her mind was preoccupied with panicking.

"The . . . the queen? That means . . . there's a king. I'm in the same building as our king."

He looked at her, puzzled. "Yes, of course. They're my parents. Would you like to meet them?"

She stared at him. "Meet . . . the king? No, that's okay. I don't . . ."

He shook his head. "Nonsense. You have to meet them."

Zelda dug her heels into the floor, shaking her head. "How could I? Talk to the . . . oh, goddess, oh Din, I couldn't . . ."

Daphnes shook his head. "What is it about money and status that frightens you so?"

She snapped out of her panic for a moment and glared at him. "If you didn't have any, you'd be scared of it, too."

"You're not afraid of me."

"You're not scary."

He sighed. "Come on, Miss Zelda. You don't even have to say anything. Just stand behind me and look small and helpless."

"No problem there," she muttered, as he opened another door and ushered her into what he said was the throne room.

It was huge, of course; how could it have not been? There were intricate tapestries on the walls, depicting war and legendary heroes she didn't recognize. The floor and walls were marble, and only a few small windows let in any natural light. The rest came from a crystal chandelier, its candles casting the chamber in an orange glow. On the other side of the room, two giant thrones sat side by side. They were covered in red and purple velvet and were gilded with gold thread. In these thrones sat the King and Queen. They were leaning close to one another, whispering. The Queen's face was lined with worry, the King's with exasperation.

Daphnes cleared his throat, jolting them from their conversation. The Queen looked up, a smile lighting her weary face, and hurried over to them. She had a cute, motherly look about her that set Zelda at ease. She'd been expecting someone imposing and beautiful, with long legs and a thin face that looked predatory. This woman was short and plump, with thin blonde hair and bright gray eyes. "Daphnes!" she cried. Her yellow gown rustled as she wrapped her arms around him. She glanced at Zelda and let go, her eyebrows raised. She didn't look especially displeased about Zelda's presence, but wasn't giving her a welcoming look.

The Queen called out to her husband, "Myran, Daphnes is home!"

"I can see that, Doris," he said, and stood. Unlike his wife, he was tall and thin, with a long beard. "The boy is safe, as I promised he would be. He is not incompetent."

"Hello, father," Daphnes mumbled, bowing his head.

The King smiled, and his face was transformed into something warm and loving. "Hello, son. Did you have a productive journey?"

"Yes, father. The Miians are thoroughly against the Democrens. They will not secede from Hyrule even if their neighbors do. I have a full report . . ." He began rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. "I must have left it with one of the council members," he said, looking up with a sheepish shrug.

"And where would they be?"

"Well . . . I may have let them travel home on another boat. So that they wouldn't have to worry about me."

The Queen let out a scandalized cry, and moved to clutch Daphnes to her again. "My poor Daphnes! All alone, with no one to protect him from the ugly people —"

Zelda kept her gaze on the floor, but watched her out of the corner of her eye. Was she one of those 'ugly people' the Queen was talking about?

The King sighed. "Yes, yes, we'll deal with that later. In the meantime, you might do well to explain the girl who came in with you."

"Uh, this is Zelda. I met her on the boat. Zelda—" He elbowed her in the side, forcing her to look up. She tried to get rid of the deer-in-the-headlights look that she could feel on her face, but it was difficult, because whenever she tried to think of them as regular people, she would remember that they were the King and Queen, and she'd feel the urge to run. "This is my mother." She nodded, the movement stiff and jerky. "And this is my father."

"It's nice to meet you," The King said, smiling thinly. Zelda decided he wasn't too bad.

The Queen, however, was another story. She held out her hand. Zelda stared at it for a moment, and then shook it hesitantly. The Queen's nose wrinkled, and she knew that she had made a mistake. "And what is she doing here?" Daphnes mother asked.

"Zelda needed somewhere to stay, and so I said she could. Stay here, I mean." He looked at Zelda with an uneasy smile.

"Oh. Can you come here, please?" The Queen grabbed Daphnes by the arm and led him and the King away, leaving Zelda alone in the strange room.

"I thought she was supposed to be an expert diplomat," Zelda mumbled, wanting to explore the tapestries on the wall or the thrones but afraid to move. "Shouldn't she be nice to all the little commoners?" Now that they were out of the room, she could breathe more easily.

She could hear the Queen's voice, saying something about how the castle was meant to be preserved as sacred, and how it wasn't "just a hotel for peasants off a boat! Think of the diseases she could have, Myran!" The Queen wasn't even bothering to keep her voice down, and Zelda wrapped her arms around herself for the scant protection it offered.

"Way to suck up to the locals," she said with a sigh.

* * *

"What's going on?"

"I have no idea."

"I heard something."

"I heard singing."

"No, it was a scream."

"I thought there was a fight."

"What's going on?"

Ugh. Dimitri lifted his head from the ground. He stared blankly at the waves, trying to think. The voices were coming from somewhere to his right. He didn't have the energy to look. Beams of light chased each other down the beach, and it took Dimitri a moment to recognize them as torchlight. They were coming closer.

He sat up. Emilia's body lay only a few feet away, the sand around her dark with water. He looked away, guilt and sadness overwhelming him. "What do I do?" he whispered, shaking his head.

_Get out of here._

"Shut up," he moaned, resting his head on his knees. "Please, just shut up."

 _They're going to be here any minute. Get out._ He heard the murmur of voices grow louder, and his eyes strayed unwillingly to Emilia's body. They would never forgive him for this. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't be able to forgive them, either. He'd want them dead.

"Where do I go?"

 _Get onto the water. I will lead you from there. There is an island._ With that he saw a picture, beautiful in its simplicity, drawn in messy watercolors. A smooth bell curve of white sand. Brown crooked lines with splotches of green and purple. Green water. Blue sky. White clouds.  _I can get you to safety._

A scream broke Dimitri out of his trance. He shook his head and stood, looking over his shoulder. A wall of light and people blocked his way home; he wouldn't be able to go back.

He ran to the water and grabbed a boat that lay on the beach "in case of emergencies." There were never emergencies.

Until now. The boat glided into the water, and he leapt in and untied the rope. Sailing away, he listened to the shouts and excited mutterings. The torchlight illuminated him, as well as the people who carried them. His friends, his family. People he'd hated and loved and trusted, but never feared. They were people he'd never see again, if the goddesses were kind.

Dimitri looked back out at the ocean, to the island that he couldn't see. It was out there. His sanctuary.

 _Go_ , the Dark Triforce ordered. And for once, Dimitri was happy to obey.


	3. Hyrule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda and Demi explore new lands . . . with very different results.

"Where are you going, Miss?"

Zelda froze. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and smiled at the guard who had called her name. "Yes?"

He eyed her warily. "Where are you going, Miss?" he repeated, enunciating every word as though she was stupid. Which wouldn't have surprised her; if the Queen hadn't put out a bulletin that she was mentally unstable, Zelda would eat her apron.

"I'm . . . going for a walk?"

He leaned against the wall. "The courtyards are lovely this time of day," he said.

"Yes, I know. I've seen them six times in the past three days. I was thinking of exploring the town. It's a cute town down there, isn't it?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Miss, but you can't leave. I have orders that you are not to leave the castle under any circumstances."

Zelda had known that there was  _something_  strange going on around the castle, which was why she had wanted to sneak out rather than catch everyone's attention. But she couldn't understand why anyone would want to keep her in the castle, especially considering how much the Queen hated her. She would have assumed that the Queen would have booted her out by now, if Daphnes hadn't wanted her here.

Apparently that wasn't the case. "Why not?" she asked.

The guard shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I have no idea. I think it's something about you being a suspected criminal, and they don't want you running away with anything valuable until they have contacted the proper authorities and made sure you aren't sneaking information to the Gerudo."

She stared at him for a long time. "You're not serious, are you?"

The guard shrugged again. "That's just hearsay, Miss. I just know what I'm supposed to do."

"Surely you know that that's ridiculous, don't you?" Zelda said. "I mean, I don't  _look_  like a killer to you, do I?" When the guard didn't reply, she sighed and shook her head. "Fine, fine. I don't want to get you into trouble." She turned and walked away, trying her hardest to look sweet and innocent.

After all, she'd heard that the door from the kitchen wouldn't be guarded in about a half an hour, since the cooks were going to barter with some of the townspeople for good vegetables.

She could wait.

* * *

Sneaking out of the castle was easier than it should have been. Despite Daphnes' grim predictions of war with the neighbors, it seemed that everyone in Hyrule was pretty complacent. None of the guards were expecting any real trouble; many of them were playing cards and didn't look up as she tiptoed past.

"All right," she muttered to herself as she slipped out of town — which was a little too guard-clotted to be conducive to exploration — and into Hyrule Field. She knew that Daphnes had had the best intentions, but staying at the castle had been the worst move she had made thus far. Instead of being a tourist, looking for jobs and a home and enjoying the sights of a bustling mainland, she was sneaking around and considered Security Threat Number One. How paranoid could the King and Queen possibly be?

Zelda sighed and closed her eyes. "You are in a beautiful new world," she said, "one that you've never even dreamed of. This is your first glimpse of it in the day. Enjoy." She opened her eyes and turned in a slow circle. Grass up to her calves — in some places up to her knees — waving back and forth in shades of green and yellow. Emptiness, not unlike staring out at the ocean, as far as the eye could see. It was simple, lovely. There was a river to her left, the town to her right, and nothingness ahead of her.

Wait . . . not quite nothingness. In the distance, hazy with early-afternoon heat, was a building. It looked like a farm of some sort, but it would take hours to get there.

Well, Zelda had said she'd wanted to walk. What else would she do, anyway? She began the long trek to the island in the middle of a sea of grasses.

As she drew a little closer, she saw a horse leap over the fence that circled the farm. It kicked up a shower of dust as it landed, then galloped towards her. Now that it was closer, Zelda realized that a girl sat upon its back. She smiled as she reached Zelda, a good twenty minutes later.

"Hi! I'm Mary! Who are you?" She extended a callused hand.

"I . . . Zelda."

"Oh! This is Starfire." Mary gestured to the black horse. It had a small white diamond on its forehead.

Mary was nice. She was cute and bouncy, with long, red hair tossed over her shoulder. A spray of freckles covered her nose. She was rather "common," with practical, homespun clothes and filthy hands. Zelda liked her immediately; Mary was like anyone on Piquo, only friendly to her.

Of course, this meant that she had no idea how to talk to the girl. "She's . . . pretty. So I guess I should be going." She turned around and began to walk back the way she came, feeling her face heat up.

"It sure looked like you were headed to our ranch," Mary called. When Zelda turned around, she cocked her head to the side. "Were you?"

"Well, I was curious about it. But I don't want to invade —"

"Nonsense! We love visitors, and I can give you the grand tour! Come on, follow me." Mary turned the horse around and began walking back to the ranch. "So, I don't think I've seen you around."

"I'm new. I was actually looking for a place to work." She kept her gaze on the ground in front of her, looking out for surprise dips or bumps that could trip her.

"Well, I don't know if we can help you out there, but I'll ask Talon, of course! We sell milk and take care of animals. Like cows and horses and cuccos. Do you know anything about farm animals?"

"Not really. . . ."

"We'll see what we can do for you. We also train horses for racing. This horse here is the fastest in Hyrule."

Zelda looked up. "Really?"

"Yeah. She just gave birth. I think her baby'll be just as fast."

A horse would be nice, if those guards were serious about her being a security threat. Even more important, though, would be having a horse to get her across this huge field in less than a day. "Uh . . . how much is she worth?"

Mary thought. "Maybe a coupl'a hundred rupees or so. Why?"

Zelda dug through her pocket. "I have three hundred. Can I buy her?"

Her eyes widened, and she threw her arms around her horse's neck. "No, I love Starfire! There's no way I'd give her up!" The horse snorted and threw its head back.

Zelda averted her gaze, looking from her shoes, which needed severe cleaning, to the desert, which was about a hundred feet away. The silence lengthened. She glanced over her shoulder.  _Uh-oh._

There were three guards following them. Each was on a brilliant white horse. They had kept a safe distance, making sure Zelda didn't realize they were there; now that they saw that she'd seen them, they were picking up the pace. And man, those horses were fast.

Zelda glanced back up at Mary, who was staring at the horizon. "Uh, Mary?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry." She grabbed Mary's foot — which was just below her breast — and pulled it out of the stirrup, leaping into the air and using the empty space as a foothold. She gave Mary the gentlest shove she could, causing the poor girl to topple to the ground before she could react. Mary just stared up at her, her eyes wide with shock. "Sorry," Zelda repeated. "I'll bring it back." She swung up onto the horse, losing one of her shoes but not caring.

"Damn Gerudo!" Mary shrieked.

From what Zelda had heard about Gerudo, this wasn't exactly the highest compliment. Still, she didn't need to be thrown into the castle's dungeon for failing to comply with the law. She dug her heels into Starfire's sides, urging her toward the desert.

Behind her, she could hear Mary talking to the guards. "She stole my horse!"

The men ignored her. "She's going to the Valley," one of the guards muttered. "Maybe she  _is_  a spy for the Gerudo."

"S-spy?" Mary said. "You mean . . . I was right?"

Zelda ignored them, hurrying towards the fortress at the end of a desert-like valley. Everything she'd heard about them didn't sound promising, but it was better than the other option. Besides, who knew? Maybe if they knew that she was considered some sort of felon, they could bond over their shared enjoyment of breaking the law. She heard the hoofbeats of the guards' horses as they continued the chase, and knew that if she slowed down, she could be taken prisoner. It didn't seem like she had any other choice.

It was time to meet the Gerudo.

* * *

Lenea stared out of the fortress window, hardly believing her eyes. There was no one watching the fortress, stopping the blonde-haired young woman from breaking into their home.

"Aveni! Come here!" Lenea shouted. Aveni was the head Gerudo; if anyone knew what to do, it would be her. As she burst into the room, Lenea pointed out the window at the girl. They stared for a moment, and then Lenea asked, "What do we do?"

"We stop her," Aveni replied. "Get some of the others."

"Yes, Aveni." Lenea turned and hurried away, tying up her thick red hair as she ran.

She threw open the door to her sleeping chamber, and found her friends sitting there, doing nothing. Tika was sitting on a stool, staring intently at a bug. Rio was lying on Tika's bed, and, judging from her slumped position and deep breathing, she was asleep.

"Tika! Rio!" Neither responded. "Get  _up!"_  She grabbed each by one of their ears and yanked them to their feet.

"Ow!" Rio complained, rubbing her red ear. "That really hurt. I mean, for all we know, you stretched our ears."

"You're a skilled death machine, Rio," Tika replied. "Shut up and deal. What's up, Lenea?"

"Someone's broken in," Lenea said.

"In? Where?" Rio muttered, still groggy.

"Into the fortress!" Lenea snarled. "On  _your_  watch!"

Rio shook her head. "Isn't Marisa supposed to be on our watch? Why isn't she covering for us?"

"Marisa doesn't do anything that is not related to babies," Lenea snapped. "Not since she had Nabooru. You know that." She was gearing up a good lecture on the discipline of the Gerudo, and how it was all going downhill thanks to the laziness of Gerudo without a king, but Tika cut her off.

"But honestly, Nabooru's fifteen years old already! She's not a baby anymore."

"Try telling Marisa that," Rio said, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. "Hey, is there still gonna  _be_  a king? I mean, are we just stuck unless we find Ganondorf, or what? It's been fifteen years. I don't even think people are even still looking since Koume and Kotake took him."

"There's a  _Hylian_  in our valley, you idiots." Lenea was ready to leave them and find someone else, but as the thought registered in both women's brains, they stood, scimitars at the ready and all semblance of humor gone from their faces.

"Where?" Rio asked, checking her pockets for all of her weapons — which, Lenea thought with a sigh, she ought to have had on her at all times.

She decided to leave the matter for another day, however. "Follow me."

* * *

Zelda left Starfire outside; she didn't think that it would be handy to bring indoors, and besides, she'd promised Mary that she would get her horse back. Slipping into the high-walled fortress, she looked around and was surprised at how deserted it was. Were they anticipating her arrival, and lying in wait? Or was this so-called "Gerudo Fortress" just a ghost town? She glanced at all the stone buildings, scanning the doorways first, then looking up at each window before moving on to the next building.

There! Staring down at her were two Gerudo. Their ears were round, not pointed like she was accustomed to. They were both women, with red hair and dark skin and foreboding eyes.

While she couldn't see either of them in extraordinary detail, she could tell that one was older than the other. Her hair was streaked with gray, and her face was well-lined. The other was barely out of her teens, and from what Zelda could see of her expression, she was far more troubled than her companion. The older one gestured at Zelda. She said something, and the other girl disappeared. After a few moments, the older woman left, too. Zelda could guess what they had been talking about, and judging from the huge swords both women had had slung over their backs, it was unlikely that she'd have an opportunity to talk with any of them.

She ducked into the nearest building, hoping that it would be as empty as the rest of the valley appeared to be. Luckily for her, the front room at least was vacant. She crept forward, wondering if it would be stupider to duck under the table or to check the rest of the possibly-inhabited rooms for a better hiding place. Her foot snagged on something under the carpet, and she fell forward onto her face, catching herself with her palms. Wincing, she sat back up and glanced at the rug. The bump was uneven, like whatever was under there was something with a specific shape that wasn't symmetrical. Holding her breath and praying she'd caught a lucky break, she pulled back the rug.

Thank the goddesses — like all the villains in her mother's poorly-written romance novels, the Gerudo were not very good at hiding their trapdoors. The handle was ornate and heavy, and the hinges squealed as she pulled the wooden door up. Still, she didn't have time to worry about how loud it was. Besides, she couldn't get the rug to cover the door already, so her time was better spent relying on speed rather than stealth.

Outside, she heard voices, then footsteps. She stared in horror at the half-open door, wishing she'd had the foresight to close it, and debating whether it wold be smart to go do so.

No point. They'd be more likely to notice the movement, anyway. Her only hope was to get a head start.

"Hey, Lenea! This door's open!" Zelda winced at the sound of the girl's voice. Lowering herself in, she looked back at the open door, watching the long shadows of three girls approach the door. She dropped to the stone floor, which was about ten feet below.

She had lost her other shoe at some point; if she had to guess, she'd say that it was probably still in Starfire's stirrup. The shock from the ground made her feet sting, and she gasped. Her knees buckled, and she went down hard, knocking her head on the wall. She struggled to her feet, eyes watering and lips pressed together.

She'd left the trapdoor open, since she couldn't close it from below without shutting her arm in in the hinge. So she could see the outlines of three heads as they looked down the hole at her. It wasn't bright enough for them to see her, but she knew that when they dropped into the tunnel, they would find her without a problem. If she didn't move soon, they'd find her as a nice, soft landing mat. She took off down the long hallway, barely looking around. She kept her eyes on the tunnel that snaked ahead of her into blackness. It didn't look very inviting, but had to be better than the warrior women that lay behind.

Three sharp thuds echoed down the hallway, followed by voices. They hadn't seen her yet, but they'd catch up with her. Zelda pressed herself against the wall, hoping they would just run past and not find her. It was a bit of a long shot, but after the day she'd had so far, she deserved a long shot. Besides, it was dark, and they'd been in the sunlight all day; she couldn't see them, so how likely was it that they could see her?

Luck was with her for a third time. They didn't notice a thing as they hurried past. Though their eyes were great in the daylight, they apparently weren't as good in the dark. Zelda thanked the goddesses for that.

A hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her back into a secret tunnel. She gasped and tasted dirt from the attacker's palms as her head was "accidentally" banged against a rock outcropping. The person's filthy hand was clamped too tight over her mouth — and too much of her nose — for her to draw breath. Her chest was beginning to feel tight as they continued, and white spots were expanding across her vision when the hand let go. Zelda tried to collapse forward, breathing in wheezy gasps, when she suddenly changed her mind.

Or, rather, her mind was changed for her as the person — who was still behind her, and whom, in her frantic need to breathe, Zelda had forgotten — wrapped one hard-muscled arm around her chest and pressed a knife against her throat. A girl's voice hissed in her ear: "Talk fast, Gerudo."

* * *

Later that night Dimitri collapsed onto the sand. He was ready to just sleep here for the next few hours. Or days. Or for the rest of his life. He wouldn't mind never waking up. Funny, how such a morbid thought would never have occurred to him the day previous, and if it  _had_ crossed his mind, he would have laughed. Not care about living or dying? In his mind, there had been no contest. Beautiful beaches and clear seas all day, man. Much better than the Great Horizon that hovered beyond the borders of life.

Now, however, he didn't care if the Great Horizon was nothing but a big black void. At least that would be relaxing. And it would be free of —

_Get up! _The tide's too high; y_ ou'll die if you sleep here._

Ugh. The stupid voice.

 _I don't care,_  he replied, too exhausted to say the words out loud.

_I do. Now get UP!_

Dimitri's head snapped up of its own accord. It was like someone had grabbed his hair and tugged upward with all their might, except without the sudden pain of torn follicles. His arms flexed, his legs shoved, and his body staggered into a lumbering shamble that almost resembled a walk. His body dragged him a few yards before collapsing. Dimitri was unconscious even before the Dark Triforce cut his strings and let him fall.

Hours later — though he would have been hard-pressed to believe it, considering how tired he felt — he was shaken awake. Green eyes peered down at him from a tan, impish face. Her hair was a carroty red that looked strange with her dark skin. She was shaking his shoulders and inspecting his face. "Whoa!" He sat up and scrambled away from her. She cried out and scurried over to a bush, diving into it and huddling behind its leaves. Only her eyes were visible as she looked back at him.

He couldn't help but feel bad, watching her watch him. She looked scared to death, and strangely animal-esque. She stared at him like she'd never seen a Hylian before. Which, if this island was as remote as the Dark Triforce had promised, she hadn't.

"Hey, it's all right," he murmured, holding up his hands with his palms facing her.

The eyes disappeared. There was a dry rustling, then silence. He waited. She didn't come back. With a shrug, he sat down and placed his chin in his hands, looking around at the island. It really  _was_  beautiful. It had the simplicity of the painting he'd seen in his mind's eye, somehow, giving it an abstract — but not unreal — atmosphere that was impossible to put into words. It was like he was  _part_  of the painting now, something pure and simple, drawn with three or four messy paint strokes. Nothing ugly inside. Everything about the island seemed pure, in fact. Gleaming white sand stretched to the sea, turning turquoise under the water. The ocean was the same blue-green it was at home, but somehow this seemed cleaner, probably because there were no dirty fish guts and waste mucking it up. A few miles inland, covering the center of the island, was a jungle of bushes and palm trees and tall grasses; he was only a foot or two away from the outer edge of it.

It was beautiful, and magical. Surely such a place couldn't exist . . . but then where was he, really?

Dimitri sat there for a long time, gazing out at the ocean. He could see little fish swimming just beneath the surface, and jagged rocks that dotted the water.

 _"Hai!"_  The cry broke the thick silence.

Dimitri spun around and lifted up his hands, barely catching the rock that aimed at his head. Holding it, he glanced around and saw . . . nothing. Only trees and bushes. Then he saw a flash of movement. He ducked and rolled out of the way, barely missing the next rock. He scanned the trees and saw the girl he'd met earlier. She was crouched on a tree branch, surrounded by other women armed with rocks.

" _Tisshia ans de youiko! Youiko!"_  the redhead cried, standing and arching her back, her head thrown up at the sky like a cucco crowing.

" _Youiko!"_ the other girls responded. They chanted it again and again.  _"Youiko!"_ They threw another barrage of rocks.  _"Youiko!"_

Dimitri turned and sprinted toward the water and out of their range. Whatever  _youiko_ was, he was pretty sure that he was it.

 _"Aagh!"_ Before he could make it out of the range of some of the stronger throwers, he was hit by a rock and crashed to the sand. He rubbed his head and scrambled to his feet, scrabbling at the ground for some sort of purchase. But by then he was hit in the arm, shoulder, and head by more rocks. Something warm and wet trickled down his face, and if he'd felt any pain, he would have assumed that his head was bleeding. The other rocks had, as far as he could tell, only bruised him, but they hurt like hell. He cried out as a spear hit him in the leg — and with that one he  _knew_ that he was bleeding, as the warm, sticky red liquid was darkening his clothes and the sand around him with too much volume and speed to be denied. Another was aimed at his head. He ducked it, but was hit by the stones that decorated the shaft, resulting in more blood in his eyes.

Blackness crowded in the edges of his vision. In the center of the darkness, he saw the girls whooping.

Then everything went black.

* * *

She watched with satisfaction as the boy fell to the ground. The sound of her people's joy was gratification enough, but it was the knowledge that they could, if they had to, subdue the  _youiko_ with attacks that reassured and pleased her. She didn't want to be forced to that, however. It was just a little insurance.

One of her companions lifted another spear, but she placed her hand on the girl's.  _"Dinia, Moko. Rinai quo,"_ she scolded in Acakian. " _No, Moko. We can't kill this one."_

" _But what if he's the Evil? The_ youiko?" Moko glanced at the spear, and then at the young man lying in the blood-soaked sand.

" _He_ is _the_ youiko _. Of that I have no doubt. But we can't kill him yet."_

" _Why not?"_ Rikara asked, butting in on the conversation. All the girls were listening now.  _"_ I _would, if I were you."_

" _Trust me, Rikara, Moko. All of you. Don't do anything until I give the word."_

" _Yes, Princess,"_ Moko replied _. "Of course we trust you."_

" _Good. Wait here."_ With that, she swung down from her perch and sneaked across the beach to where the man lay. She avoided the danger spots: the patches of sunlight where the leaf cover was insufficient. Upon reaching him, she pulled out a small vine rope, threading it through his fingers and tying it around his wrist. She examined him, searching for the symbol of the  _youiko._

" _Princess! Hurry! The light is coming!"_ Moko cried out.

She twisted around, avoiding the patch of light that the sun made as it moved in the sky. She yelped as the light grazed her skin, leaving burning red welts up and down where it had touched. They began bleeding, and she moaned in pain. She sat down on the sand, breathing hard, and beckoned Moko to come to her. Moko hurried down and squatted next to her, taking her bleeding arm and rubbing a cream all over it. She tied leaves around the arm and pulled tight. The princess flinched but said nothing. Moko finished cleaning her injury and looked back up at her. " _You see?"_ she said.  _"The_ youiko _is more trouble than he is worth."_

" _No. I think that we need him. If we kill him, the danger will spread to another, and will control them, too. If we can work with this one, we can figure out a way to rid ourselves of this curse once and for all. Besides, the boy didn't harm me. The sun did."_

" _Well, you wouldn't have been in the sun if you hadn't gone to fetch him."_ When the Princess said nothing, Moko took her by the free arm. " _Princess_   _Quahi,_ _I'm serious. You cannot do this. Maybe . . ."_ She hesitated.  _"Maybe Rikara and I ought to take care of the youiko."_

 _"No. I believe that I can do this, and that I must._ _I know that he can save us, and that the girls will kill him any chance they get."_ She knelt down, pulling the boy into the shade, and then looked up at Moko again.  _"Little sister, I must take him somewhere safe, and care for his wounds. I promise that you will find us both alive and well in a few days."_ Smiling reassuringly, she pointed to the other girls.  _"Take care of them for me."_

Moko nodded, then walked back to the line of trees. Quahi tugged on the rope and pulled him, moving gently to keep him from losing too much blood or waking up from a jolting pain. " _Koi hino alleiy,"_ she whispered.

_Time to go._

* * *

"Talk," the girl commanded, and pressed the blade harder.

For a few moments, Zelda could only choke. When she could speak, she hissed, "I'm not a Gerudo. Let me go!"

"Of course you're a Gerudo — don't assume that I am stupid. What are you running from?"

"I'm not! I don't even  _look_  like a Gerudo!"

"How can I tell? It's dark as Democres in here! Wait." She began to walk backward, forcing Zelda to match her steps to avoid the knife that was still at her throat. After about thirty feet or so, the woman let her arms fall, grabbing Zelda by the shoulders and spinning her around. She looked her up and down, the knife held ready at her side. "Well, fancy that. You don't," she said, letting the knife fall slightly; though she didn't relax her grip on it. "So . . . what are you doing here, then?"

Zelda stared at her. "You kidnapped me, nearly choked me to death, and accused me of being a Gerudo, and now you want me to sit here and  _chat?"_

"The other Gerudo won't find us here," the woman said. In the dim light, all Zelda could see was that she had bright hair and red eyes. "This was a secret passage created by the Sheikah and hidden in darkness. The Gerudo are too used to bright light and brilliant glare; they have no talent at seeking things out of the shadows."

"The . . . Sheikah?"

"Yes, of course." When she saw Zelda's blank expression, she frowned. "The Sheikan people, the famous warriors? The only ones whom the Gerudo are afraid of? The _saviors_  of the Hylians?" Zelda simply shook her head, and the woman sighed. "Where have you been for the past fifty years?"

"For nineteen of them I was on an island called Piquo. I've been on the mainland for approximately seventy hours."

"Oh." The woman sheathed her blade. "Who  _are_  you, then? And what are you doing here?"

Zelda took a deep breath. "My name is Zelda. And that's a kinda long story."

The woman smiled. "My name is Impa. And I would love to hear it."

* * *

Dimitri opened his eyes and looked up at the blue sky above him. The sun was at the exact same place it had been when he'd been knocked out, which meant that either he had been unconscious of a few seconds or a few days. He glanced to either side, wincing at the twinge his head gave him. It looked like he was somewhere in the thick of the jungle, as there were plants on every side of him. That gave some evidence to the "asleep for days" theory, as did the lack of screaming agony in his leg, which had resembled a shish-kebab the last time he'd seen it. Slowly and painfully he worked his way into a sitting position, taking the time to admire the brilliant yellow-and-purple bruises running up his arms and legs. He felt the tender spot on the top of his head. There was a bump, but no more bleeding. His leg wasn't bleeding anymore, either; in fact, it was bandaged up and felt almost good. It was sore when he touched it, but otherwise it was on the mend.

 _Get up!_ The Dark Triforce snarled.  _Get up and get out of here!_

 _What?_ Dimitri was still too tired to talk aloud, but found that thinking his replies worked just fine.  _What are you talking about? I thought you wanted —_

_Before she comes back! Grab something to kill her with and hide! You —_

There was a rustling to his left, and the young woman with the red hair stuck her head out of the bushes.  _"Ve ger difo' nopp ette cartel?"_ she asked, cocking her head to the side.

Dimitri stared about her, forgetting all about the Dark Triforce. "I'm sorry?"

" _Adifissmio."_

"I . . . don't know what you're saying."

She looked at the ground, put out. Then she looked up.  _"Winyner-ci?"_ she asked, miming drinking.

"Yes," he replied, relieved that they could talk, more or less.

She knelt down by a stream flowing by and pulled out a pouch made of animal skins. They looked like the clothes she had on. Out of that she pulled a bowl, made out of some sort of bone; Dimitri decided he didn't want to know. She filled it and handed the bowl to him. As he drank, she watched him.

"What's your name?" he asked. She stared at him blankly. He pointed to himself. "Demi."

She nodded and smiled.  _"Quahi."_ Demi relaxed and held out his hand.

"It's a pleasure to —"

Suddenly Quahi grabbed his hand. She turned it palm-down, so that the glittering black Triforce was visible.  _"Youiko,"_ she whispered, and the Dark Triforce hissed.

Dimitri cringed, hoping she wasn't going to throw any more rocks at him. "What is a  _youiko_?"

She pointed to his hand, then to hers, which had a golden triangle etched into it. Quahi said the only Hyrulian word she knew, and it scared him more than anything else she could have said.

"Evil."


	4. Zora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impa and Zelda run into some very strange creatures who need their help.

". . . And somewhere about the time I was avoiding the sword-happy harpies back there, I ran into you," Zelda finished.

"But what made you decide to leave? I mean, what's wrong with Piquo?"

Zelda's eyes narrowed. "It was boring," she said, and Impa looked away. They continued on in silence for a while. Then Zelda said, "You still haven't told me why you're here. Or where we're going."

"I'm a Sheikah," Impa began. "Our job is to protect the Hylians at all costs. We're very loyal, and skilled in the arts of disguise and deceit."

"So you're liars and thieves."

"No, not either. We don't lie, unless it suits the well-being of our race, or the race of the Hylians. And we don't  _steal_ , per se. We merely borrow and return later. We  _always_ return everything we borrow, though . . . subtly."

"What does that mean?"

"We give the stolen objects back. But what we do is place it somewhere hard to find. Then when they do discover it, they'll believe that they misplaced it." Impa smirked, like she was proud of this clever bit of trickery.

"What if they don't find it?"

Her smile faded, and she looked uncomfortable. "They do. Usually. Anyway, all Sheikah have red eyes."

"Like all Gerudo have red hair?" Zelda couldn't imagine how such a thing could work. Did no one ever cross-breed with other races? Was interracial dating really such a serious offense in Hyrule? Back home, men were always marrying women from other tribes without a second thought, to the point where there was no such thing as a "pure" Hylian; they were all mutts somewhere down the line.

"Yeah."

"Do all Sheikah have silver hair?" Impa shook her head. "Has it  _always_  been silver?" How did one get  _born_  with silver hair?

"Yep. Ever since I had hair." She glared at Zelda. "May I continue?"

"Who's stopping you?"

"You are. We are trained fighters, and have the greatest range of weapon usage in Hyrule. We are also talented at escaping, and, if we want, can neither be seen nor heard."

Zelda sighed. This little Sheikah lesson was going on far too long for her liking. "So you're spies."

"We prefer a different word, but I guess that works too."

"That doesn't explain why you're here."

Impa looked surprised. "Sure it does."

"No, all you've done is brag about being a Sheikah." It was such a relief to finally say, and Zelda couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction as Impa looked put out.

"I haven't. I was just stating what is common knowledge to normal Hylians. Speaking of which, we had our own secret language, but the Hylian King ordered us to stop using it because no one could understand it, and he was afraid we'd plot against him. Only a few know it fully, myself included."

"Impa? I don't mean to be rude, but I don't care. Nothing you've said has explained what you're doing here."

"I . . . don't really have a reason, besides curiosity." She bit her lip and looked away. "You see . . . I'm not really supposed to be here. This kind of reconnaissance mission is only to be done with the approval of the Sheikan leaders, and with good reason. It's not supposed to be open to the public."

"So won't they kill you, knowing you came here?"

"Nope." They reached a door, and Impa pulled it open a crack, letting a strip of light shine through.

"Why not?"

"They don't know I'm here. Anyway, they don't kill people who break the rules. I'd just be exiled." She yanked the door open and they climbed out of the tunnel into the brilliant daylight.

"Where are we?" Zelda asked, squinting and shielding her eyes.

"In Hyrule Field. Near Zora's River."

"What's a Zor —"

A surge of water crashed over her from the left, knocking her off balance and sending her tumbling into the water as another water bomb barely missed Impa. A smooth, wet hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her deeper into the water. Zelda had no idea what it was, but she kicked wildly, slamming her foot into something hard and smooth. Instantly the hand let go. She swam up to the surface, gasping for breath and scanning the water for more of the creatures, whatever they were.

Impa ran over to the water's edge. "Farore! What  _happened_? I mean, one second you're there and then —"

A blue blur shot out of the water and splashed back down, barely leaving a ripple. Zelda watched the shadowy figure swim closer to her. She paddled backward, and smacked into another fish monster.  _"Impa!"_

Impa reached into her pocket, producing a long chain. Swinging it over her head, she sent one end of it to Zelda, who grabbed it, wrapped it around her waist, and began to swim over to the shore as fast as she could. But one of the fish people seized the chain that was dangling in the water between Impa and Zelda. With a sharp tug, it sent Impa toppling into the river. The fish holding Zelda towed her back through the water to a little side stream. Without warning, she was dragged underwater again, and she could feel them moving, and see the sun above her head, but she didn't care. All she cared about was that she was under the water. With no oxygen. She twisted and kicked, trying to get out of the death-grip, but the arms grasping her were too strong.

The sky above her grew clearer and clearer, and Zelda realized that they were heading towards the surface. She blew out the remaining air in her lungs as they burst out of the water onto dry land. One of the fish-creatures threw Zelda onto the grass, leaving her to sputter and gasp for air for the second time in less than three hours. Someone held her by the shoulders, holding her steady as she sat up, and Zelda heard Impa's voice ask hoarsely, "Are you all right?"

Zelda tried to say yes but could only cough. She nodded instead. Finally, she stood and turned to face their captors. "Whoa." Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the ground again.

If she had thought the Gerudo were strange-looking, the creatures were flat-out  _alarming._ They were bright blue, both male, and one was covered with green tattoos. The other was thinner, sleeker, and seemingly shyer. He was staring straight at Zelda, his brow furrowed in confusion. The first fish, the marked one, was more muscular, and both had with what looked like tails growing out of their heads and fins attached to their arms and hips. Zelda, who had only seen Hylians her entire life, didn't know what to think about such creatures. There certainly wasn't anything this alien on their small islands, aside from the fish they caught, sold, and ate almost every day; she didn't enjoy the thought of them having sentient cousins, that was for sure. The fact that they were naked didn't even seem to matter much compared to their appearance.

She assumed she was getting her first glimpse of a Zora.

The larger one glared at them both, leveling a crossbow at them. The smaller one stepped forward, holding his head high and looking down at them. As he walked, Zelda noticed that they both had webbed feet. "I am Prince Zora," he said. "Will you two come with us, please?"

"Do we have a choice?" Impa asked.

The larger one tightened his grip on the crossbow, and Prince Zora shook his head. "It's just to talk," he said. "I believe that you can be of assistance to us. I promise, neither of you will be harmed."

"Tell that to the guy with the crossbow," Impa muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. Prince Zora placed his hand on the other's arm, forcing him to relax.

"Peace, Hiako," he murmured. To the girls he said, "Please, be reasonable. We only wish to talk."

"Why couldn't you have talked to us on land? You know, without the drowning?"

"Impa,  _shh,"_  Zelda hissed, cowed not only by the presence of the creatures but by having to deal, once again, with royalty.

Prince Zora chose to ignore her rudeness. "Everything will be explained later," he said, his manner smooth and comforting. "Everything is all right. But I must ask you to be respectful, as we are not your enemies, but hopefully your friends. We would like to take you to the Zora's Domain."

 _Flowery speech and unflappable confidence,_ Zelda thought.  _Daphnes should be taking Prince Lessons from this guy._

He led them through a maze of marshy ground that was broken up into little pools of fresh water. Every once in a while one of the Zoras would scoop up a handful to splash upon themselves. For the most part, though, they were silent as they marched. "What do you think we're doing here?" Zelda whispered to Impa.

"I don't know," she whispered back. "Now shut up, I want to observe these guys. I've seen Zora before, but only at a distance, and never as a potential threat."

Zelda turned her attention to Prince Zora. "Why is your name Zora?" she asked, deciding to leave Impa to the battle strategy and focus on keeping on their captors' good sides.

He looked puzzled. "It's tradition," he explained. "All Zora royalty is named Zora. My father's King Zora, too, and my grandfather before him."

"But I don't get why everyone  _wants_  that. No offense, but it sounds kind of . . . stupid."

"Really? It's not that different from the Hylians, you know. Everyone in the Royal Family's third name is Hyrule. Doesn't that seem odd to you?" Zelda didn't respond; thinking it over, she realized that he was right. Prince Zora smiled at her expression and nodded. "You see, then. Anyway, here we go." Prince Zora held out his hand when they reached a bridge of land in front of a large waterfall. He took out a long flute and played a few notes. The sheet of water thinned (though it still looked pretty violent), and through the falling drops they could see a ledge and a door. He put the flute away and turned to Zelda. "Follow me," he said, and jumped onto the ledge, slipping through the door on the other side.

Glancing at the waterfall, then at Impa, she took a deep breath and leapt across the gap between the bridge they were on and the waterfall. Her heel hit the ridge and slipped. She grabbed a tiny crag in the rock and steadied herself, following Prince Zora inside. Impa followed a moment later, brushing slimy moss off her hands. "It's not a huge gap, but the water really throws you off, doesn't it?" she said. Zelda didn't reply; she was staring in awe at the Zora's Domain.

It was huge. Bigger than the castle, which seemed almost impossible to Zelda, and almost all of it was water. Sure, there were ledges around the side made out of some sort of dirt or rock or something, but for the most part, everywhere one stepped was clear, blue water, cleaner than she'd ever seen. "How do you keep it so nice?" she asked.

Impa rolled her eyes, like this was just the sort of simple, unnecessary question she'd expect from a Hylian, but Prince Zora smiled. "The fish clean it," he said. "They eat any impurities in the water."

"That's very —"

"Hiiii- _yah_!" A Zora dropped down in front of them. Luckily for Zelda, who was getting a little weary of all the exposed fish-flesh, he was wearing a long cloak that covered everything but his head. He had the standard tail growing out of the back of his head, but it was a bright yellow that didn't seem natural. He kept stroking it and grinning, which made her wonder if it was some sort of symbol of honor. He had the most animated grin, charming and natural. "Hiya, Zora!"

Prince Zora sighed. "Misses, this unfortunate cretin is known as Trent. As you can see by the regrettable color of his tail, he has done something stupid again."

Trent looked wounded. "But Zora, I did something to your old dad! I'd have thought you'd be thanking me!"

The Prince's eyes widened. "What in Hyrule did you do?"

"I . . . might've dyed his bath water yellow." He beamed again; the smile was beginning to wear down the Prince's defenses, Zelda could tell. "For fun. The King has a sense of humor, right?"

Prince Zora looked scandalized.  _"Trent!_  He will skin you alive for that! He'll —"

"What, me? But I'm your most trusted friend, and the son of the King's most trusted advisor. You can get me off, right?" He flashed the grin one more time. "Please?"

Zelda couldn't help but smirk. It seemed like a thing Demi would do . . .

No. She shook her head. She wouldn't go there. There was a time and a place for moping, and to her mind, that time and place was as far away from her as possible.

Prince Zora took a deep breath and rubbed the sides of his head where tail met temple. "Just . . . tell me what happened, and let me get on with my business." Trent looked at the girls for a moment, then shrugged one shoulder, leaning against the wall as if he owned the world.

"Well, the old coot came in, and he was  _mad._ Ya see, he didn't notice the water was yellow, he was too busy interrogating me like a lowly criminal. You'd think he didn't trust me! He said that if I ever came in there again, he'd take me out to Lord Jabu-Jabu and feed me to him! As if Jabu-Jabu would ever eat someone! But when I told him that —"

"No," Prince Zora moaned, shaking his head. "You told him he was wrong? You  _idiot!"_

"He glared at me  _so_  angrily and snarled, 'I'll think of something,' and kicked me out! I got a royal guard escort and everything." He slung an arm around Prince Zora, and Zelda was taken aback by the difference between the way he treated the Prince to the way the Hylians treated Daphnes. "Hey, when you get me off with your dad, can you mention that those guards need to be taught how to be more gentle? They bruised my tail!"

The Prince stared at him. "Do you ever  _think_  about the consequences of your actions, Trent?" he asked. "Don't you ever wonder what would happen if my influence were not enough, and you were exiled?"

"Me? Nah. It's impossible to be mad at me." He winked, and turned his attention to Impa and Zelda. "So . . . hey! There's Hylians in here!"

"I'm a  _Sheikah_." Zelda nudged Impa and shook her head.

Prince Zora heard her, though Trent was oblivious, and worked to hide his smirk as he said, "Yes, that was the business I was talking about before that asinine story. The King wants them, and I was lucky enough to go fetch them."

Trent pouted. "Why wasn't I invited?"

"Because you're an idiot."

"Can we do something reckless after dinner? You owe me for not letting me come with you."

Prince Zora sighed. "If you aren't executed, then we can explore Hyrule. Is that all right?"

"Excellent! See ya 'round, Zora. Nice to meet you, Hylians." He leapt over a sign, diving into the water. Impa glared at his back, but he was out of earshot, and she didn't want to shout her race across the Domain. She didn't like that everyone was looking at her, or how bright it was in there. "There's not a decent shadow in this place," she hissed to Zelda. "Not a single way to sneak out of here!"

"You need to see the sun more, anyway. And who says we need to hide?"

"It's nice to have an escape ready, Zelda. You'd never survive in a high-pressure situation, you know."

"That's why I don't intend to get into any." They continued up the stairs until they reached the throne room. Prince Zora reached up and rapped on the door.

"Go away."

"Father? It's your son, with Hylians."

"How do you . . . ? Oh, fine. Let them in." The doors swung open, and the three arrivals tried not to stare at the King, who was seated in his throne wearing a red robe. It was one of those that was supposed to cover everything from the head to the toe, but this one must have been purchased when the King was a younger fish, because it left his stomach, chest, and neck exposed and very yellow. He acted like his un-dyed head wasn't a separate color from the rest of his body, and stared the Prince down. "Are these two royal advisors to the Hylian King?"

Prince Zora glanced at Zelda and Impa, who shook their heads. "I'm afraid not, Father."

"Are they wives of wealthy noblemen?"

Another glance, another head shake. "No."

"Are they  _anyone_  of importance?"

"I . . ." He gave them one last desperate look, and then turned back to the King. "Well . . ."

The King pounded his fist on the arm of his throne. "What on earth do you expect me to do with two commoners? Didn't you assume when you saw that they were female that they would be of no use to me?"

Impa opened her mouth to argue, and Zelda was inclined to let her. However, Prince Zora brushed his hand against hers, and shot her a stern look. "Father, few Hylians come near the water due to the growing tensions between all the peoples of Hyrule, and these two were the only ones seen all day —"

"That doesn't matter to me! Are you not patient enough to wait for someone worthy?"

"Someone worthy could never have appeared! How long were we supposed to —"

"You wanted to be more involved in royal affairs, and now you're complaining about the jobs I've given you?"

"No, I just —"

"Sir," Impa said, stepping forward and squeezing between the Prince and his father, "I happen to be a Sheikah. My mother is one of the royal guards of the Hylian King himself. I may be of some assistance, as I told your son earlier." Prince Zora stared at her in shock, and Zelda bumped against him as she stepped forward, turning to make sure that the son knew well enough to keep his mouth shut.

"I am personal friends with the Hylian Prince," she said. "I'm sure that, if you wanted, I could speak to him about whatever the problem is. As the Prince and I discussed, the Zora are a top priority to the Hylian royalty." Of course, she didn't mention that her sway would be minimal, considering that she was wanted for robbery, escape, and suspected espionage, nor would she consider what might happen if King Zora attempted to tell the King of Hyrule that they were a top priority. She'd worry about that later.

King Zora leaned around the two girls, glaring at his son. "Why didn't you mention this earlier?"

"I . . . I was interrupted."

"You'll need to overcome such things when you are king. You need a strong voice and a quick tongue to make informed decisions. You are far too meek."

"Yes, Father."

The King turned to Zelda and Impa. "Now, I need you two, as women of influence and power in the Hylian courts" — The two shared uneasy glances, but said nothing — "to give the Hylian King an important message from myself and my people. The message is as follows: The Zora are experiencing a disquieting lack of fish in the rivers and lakes of Hyrule. It would be greatly appreciated if the Hylian King would look into this, and see if any Hylian action has resulted in the loss of fish. Can you deliver this message?"

"We can," Impa said, keeping her face politely blank, "but is it really a matter for Hylian royalty?"

"Hylians eat fish, don't they? This is important for you as well, and if the Hylians want to maintain a friendly relationship with the Zoras, we must all work together on issues that affect one another. I would have sent my people to speak with the King, but there has been a tightening of security at Hyrule Castle, making an audience with him near impossible, even for such trusted allies as the Zora." He leaned back. "You are dismissed. If there is anyone outside, make sure they enter posthaste."

In fact, as they were leaving, three men with vats of blue dye were ushered in, and the doors were swept closed behind them with impressive speed and force. Prince Zora sighed. "That fool's done it this time."

"Oh, that's right," Zelda said. "Will you be able to talk to your father later and help Trent?"

The Prince shrugged. "Trent won't get in trouble. His father dotes on him, and the King dotes on his father. Really, I'm in more danger of exile than Trent is, since I don't act 'princely' enough."

Steering them away from a potentially depressing subject — the Prince was looking a little down at the thought of his failure — Zelda asked, "Why aren't the Zoras doing anything to solve this fish problem, if it's as bad as you all say?"

Prince Zora looked offended. "We are. It's just that it's a bit of a mystery, and most of our scientists don't have enough to go on — there's no reason that the fish should naturally be disappearing, and no one can think of any other causes aside from some sort of predator or taint in the water. They're quite flummoxed."

"But . . . there's no one here. Where are all the other Zoras?" It was true; while there were maybe a hundred Zoras doing various things in the Domain, it seemed like far too few to make up an entire race.

"Ah, well that's another issue between the Zora and the Hylians." Prince Zora leaned closer. "They're searching for the Triforce," he said in a low voice.

Impa snorted. "Who isn't?" she asked. "I think that pretty much everyone is looking for the thing. Scores of Sheikan and Hylian warriors are on quests for it."

"Why not? It's supposed to give people the power to save Hyrule and grant them any wish. Sounds pretty cool to me," Trent said from behind them.

"Welcome back," Zelda said.

"Hey. So I hear that Hiako is planning on searching for the thing, too."

"He can't!" Prince Zora exclaimed. "We need him here! The Gerudo are stealing from us, and no one else has better aim than Hiako!"

"The Gerudo? Seriously, Zora, the Gerudo aren't coming anywhere near us."

"There's a lot you don't know, Trent. It's supposed to be kept a secret, but we found a Zora dead in one of the underground chambers, and when we looked around, there was a hole in the wall, just large enough for a man to get through. And we found evidence of Gerudo camping out there; there was a strip of pink clothing that had gotten caught on a crag in the rock."

"Well, then, why aren't there people patrolling there now?"

"The King doesn't want to cause panic. But the Gerudo are getting desperate."

"Desperate? Why?" Impa, Trent, and Prince Zora looked puzzled that she had to ask. "I'm not from around here," she reminded them.

Prince Zora nodded. "The Gerudo were originally a large nomad family from Ryia that took over Hyrule Market when they were banished from Ryia for thievery. They were again exiled to the desert years ago for plotting assassination of the Hylian King, and it's a desolate wasteland over there. They have no water, and barely any food, but the King of Hylians doesn't seem to grasp that at all. They were thieves and magicians in Ryia, and with their difficult situation, they've honed those skills to a fine art." He looked uncomfortable. "At least, that's what the rumors say. The desert is far too dry for most Zora to speak with any Gerudo firsthand, and if stories are true, few Gerudo can swim. Anyway, I am sure that they've been stealing the fish." He shrugged. "It would make sense to take advantage of the tensions between the races and pit them against one another, not to mention feeding themselves. I wouldn't be surprised if they want to start a war to get control of better land. Maybe even all of Hyrule."

Impa and Trent looked bored by this story, and Zelda assumed that it was just something everyone knew. She, on the other hand, was fascinated, and couldn't help but feel sorry for the Gerudo. "So then tell the King," she said. "You must be able to straighten something out."

"No. He refuses to admit that there are even Gerudo in our Domain, let alone that they are our main problem. I've shown him the scrap of cloth dozens of times, but he insists that there is no definitive way to find out who or what it belonged to. The way he talks, it must have come from one of the Zoras, like it was a ribbon used to tie up someone's hair!" He threw his arms up into the air, then let them drop to his sides again, looking exhausted. "I have no idea what to do." In that moment of uncertainty, the Prince reminded her of Daphnes when he'd told her that he wished he could be more confident, and Zelda realized that all the people who were going to inherit Hyrule were in for a hell of a time when it came to putting out fires. Their fathers didn't exactly seem willing to give much instruction on problem-solving, either.

"We'll help you," Zelda declared, standing up a little straighter to give her claim more credibility.

Impa shot her a confused glance. "We will?"

"Thank you!" Prince Zora rushed forward, shaking her hand. "We appreciate this so much!" He fumbled around for a moment before pulling a letter out of some unspecified location. Zelda decided to leave this aspect of Zora culture unexplored, and said nothing. "This is for the King of the Hylians. It will explain our situation in full, including suspicions of Gerudo involvement."

"Is it from the King?" Impa asked, reaching forward to take it.

The Prince shuffled. "Well . . . not exactly. It, ah, is a bit more elegant than my father could have penned, and a bit more humble." He grasped both their hands again before escorting them out of the Domain. "Thank you so much for your assistance. . . . You really  _do_ have sway in the Hylian court, right?"

Later, as they were following the river up to the Castle, Impa said, "I hope you're happy, Zel."

Zelda smiled. "You know what, Impa? I really am." She pocketed the letter that Prince Zora had given her. "Come on. Let's go meet a king."


	5. Good and Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes good people do bad things, like break into castles . . . or murder innocents.
> 
> Demi refuses to believe he is not good, not matter what the Dark Triforce makes him do.

"What?" Dimitri asked, staring at the little black mark. "This thing can't be evil. It's  _inanimate;_ it doesn't emote." Though he couldn't help but shiver, wondering whether that was actually true. There was something about the mark — the way it had started to grow warmer, the way the skin around it was swollen and red, and most of all the way it throbbed whenever the Dark Triforce spoke — that seemed ominous, even sinister. And he knew that he was lying about inanimate objects being emotionless; if that were true, the relic he'd found on the beach would be nothing more than a paperweight; in fact, it might not even have been there in the first place.

Besides, there was that  _voice_.

Quahi didn't look convinced, either. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it.  _"Guai nosio kans dange-mo,"_ she whispered. Dimitri stared at her and shook his head. She dug her fingernails into his skin and he flinched.  _"Guai nosio kans dange-mo."_

"I —"

 _"Guai nosio. Nosia."_ Without letting go of his hand, she brushed the skin near the mark with her pinky. She could have reached to touch the triangle itself, but she didn't. _"Kans,"_ she said, and shook her head vigorously from side to side.  _"Kans. Dange-mo."_ She gave him a huge, false smile, cocking her head to the side.  _"Dange-mo"_ — and she smiled —  _"Kans."_ She shook her head.

"So it's not —"

Quahi's pinky slipped, and her finger brushed against the black mark. His hand suddenly felt like a hot coal had been dropped upon it, and he cried out. The gold triangle on Quahi's hand flared with light, and her pinky blackened, like she'd crushed it in a door or under a rock. She screamed and began shaking, and Dimitri was afraid that she was having some sort of fit, like the ones Zelda's brother, Naran, was reputed to have. He'd never seen one, but one of his classmates had, and she said that he shook and moaned before collapsing; she even said that foamy drool came out of his mouth. Quahi didn't look like she was foaming, but Dimitri was terrified, and if it didn't feel like a small fire had lighted on the back of his hand, he would have been better able to remember what the teacher had done for Naran.

Just like Zelda's brilliant little brother, Quahi let out one pained moan and fell to the ground. Dimitri knelt next to her, trying to remember whether she was in danger of biting her tongue off or not. Though, since it seemed like the worst of it had passed — not only had she stopped trembling, but the burning in Dimitri's hand was beginning to fade as well — he thought it might be best not to touch her. Maybe she just needed sleep. Speaking of which. . . . He stood, prepared to crawl over to the bushes to go to the bathroom before curling up to sleep himself; after an event like that, he could use some time to recuperate.

_Kill her._

He jumped, and then snaked one leg around the other to keep from embarrassing himself. "Why?" he said, looking around for any of Quahi's friends. Or, more importantly, for any of her friends' spears.

_She has the Triforce of Wisdom. She doesn't know it yet, but she is very dangerous to us. Kill her._

Dimitri didn't respond. "She said . . .  _Guai nosio . . . kans . . . dange-mo._ 'This thing is not . . . happy? Good?'" He tried to give the Dark Triforce a defiant glare, but as it was an internal entity, the result was not impressive. "In any case, she's convinced that you're evil and bad and that you should die. From what I've seen, and from . . . from what I've done . . ." He winced at the thought of Emilia's body, wriggling and kicking up salt into his eyes as the water from the waves covered her face like a deadly caul. "I think she's right. So no, I don't think I'll be killing her, and I don't think I'll be listening to you anymore. You can try your best to control me, but I'm stronger than you.  _You_ need  _me_ just to survive. So fucking deal with it."

He turned and walked to the edge of the clearing, debating whether or not he should go off into the woods. Quahi would probably be safer, but would he? He sat down and leaned his back against one of the spindly trees. He closed his eyes, wishing that everything could go back to normal, and that he didn't have to sit here and listen to this —

 _The girl has the Triforce mark, which means that the Triforce is broken. But it can't be so. If one of the three Triforce carriers is killed, then the Triforce will be returned to its original state, and Hyrule will be returned to normal. You_ must _kill her._

"What?" He opened his eyes and sat up. "What are you talking about? What's abnormal?"

The Dark Triforce sighed, a thing that shouldn't have had any tangibility but did; he felt the grass on either side of him ripple with the sound.  _The goddesses left behind the Triforce, correct?_

"Of course. Everyone knows that."

_When they left, they also left behind the Dark Triforce, which was forged by the goddesses' darker younger brother, Aradvkn of Democres. And I cannot be broken. The Triforce, on the other hand, will break into three if touched by a wicked one, resulting in three of the most powerful people in the world. The best thing would be to get the three carriers together and sacrifice them to a worthy one with the mark of Aradvkn — that would be you, "Demi." Then the two Triforces can become one, and the owner will be granted a wish. Of course, the wish will have the opposite effect the wisher had intended, due to the backwards nature of myself, and Hyrule will be thrown into chaos. The good people, the "light" people of the world will perish._

Dimitri sat, staring at Quahi and trying to imagine her as one of the most powerful people in Hyrule. "How," he said, "would that be a good thing?"

 _Hyrule will fall, and a new land will rise up out of the ruin. The worthy one shall rule, waited on by legions of the loyal, wicked ones. That could be me. And you. As for the deaths of the people: the self-proclaimed "light people" are nothing but liars and betrayers. They say one thing, and do another, blaming it all on "the circumstances." It's a ruse to let them believe that they are in the right. That_ they _are the kind ones._

 _But us . . . we are a different story altogether. Loyal. True. We will put our lives on the line._ We _are the heroes._

Dimitri didn't appreciate being lumped in with the bad guys, but was too fascinated to interrupt.

_Another choice is to kill just one of the carriers. That way, the Triforce will return to its original state, and we can begin fresh, allowing our strength to build and our resources to expand, so that when the Triforce is broken again by one of our followers, we will be able to find the carriers and perform the ritual. Don't you understand the wonders you could achieve?_

"Wonders?" Dimitri said, staring at Quahi and imagining her — or some other, maybe younger, girl, who had no idea what was going on or what she'd done to deserve it — lying across an altar, her throat slit and blood dripping down her limp fingers. He saw bodies in the corner, each one with the dimming gold triangle on their left hands. He imagined his grandfather, Naran . . . Zelda. All would die, and people like himself would rule? He wasn't that evil yet. "I'm sorry, the wonders seem to have escaped me. I think that I'll pass on the murder."

_You will change your mind. All you need is time._

* * *

Zelda glanced at Impa, reverting to that age-old habit of the awkward or nervous: twiddling her thumbs. She felt weird just marching back up to the castle, and weirder about stopping at the Sheikah Caverns. But she expected Impa knew what she was doing.

Impa strode to the door of a low wooden house at the mouth of a cave, grabbed the knocker, and rapped it hard against the wood. A small Sheikah girl opened the door. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her eyes were warm and friendly; Zelda pegged her around fifteen years old.

"Hel—" She trailed off mid-word. "Impa?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk to your brother," Impa said.

"Well, all right, but you know, he's getting restless, what with him not being able to come with you on your —" She shut up fast when she saw Impa's expression. "Anyway, he's been in his room, and since he's been in there way too long to have been . . ." she giggled, "you know, I think it means that he's plotting some stupid scheme, and he'll want you along. As usual. You're  _sure_  you want to talk with him? He's ticked because he had to cover for you when you went out. I don't know if I'd trust his moods." She ushered them in, turning to Zelda. "Hi, I'm Tia." She held out her hand and smiled.

She took it after a moment, awed at the girl's ability to talk on and on without pause for breath. "Zelda."

Tia wore a long, navy-blue shirt that touched her knees. On the chest was a red eye; from what Zelda had gathered from Impa during her marathon lecture, the eye was the Sheikan symbol. Impa narrowed her eyes. "Tia, where did you get that shirt? You can't fight in that. And for Din's sake, pull it up."

Tia blushed and tugged on the neck of her shirt, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's Sheik's," she mumbled, her eyes on the floor.

"And where is yours?"

Tia looked up, any shame gone from her eyes. "It's Sheik's fault! He pushed me down and I fell into the horse stalls! The ones that old Sakka didn't clean! And so I tackled him and made him give me his. It was only fair."

Impa rolled her eyes. "You should be prepared for such things. Especially with your stupid broth —"

"Hey." The door opened wider behind Tia, and a young man — younger than Zelda, but probably older than Impa — poked his head in. His shaggy blond hair stuck up in the back. He kept rubbing his red eyes like he'd just woken up, and he had a tattoo on his shoulder of the Sheikan symbol. "Impa," he said. "Thought you weren't ever coming back. Gotta say, I was sick of covering for you."

"Sorry."

Sheik waved it away, turning back to Tia. "Hey, can I have my shirt back?"

Tia shook her head. Sheik groaned. "Come on, Tee, I can't go around without a shirt forever. What about when winter comes?"

"Did you clean mine? And don't be such a prima donna. Winter's not for another six months."

"Sheik, you have other shirts," Impa pointed out. "Come to think of it, so do you, Tia." Sheik waved this comment away as he had her other and glared at Tia, who shrugged. Finally he turned to Impa and Zelda, gesturing for them to follow him as he made his way deeper into the house (and, as the wooden walls gave way to damp rock, into the cave). The walls were eerily blank, and the light was sparse. Zelda felt more and more like she was descending into the lair of a villain's hideout, like the ones in silly fantasy books. Impa and Sheik, however, seemed to relax more and more as they sunk into the darkness. There was something creepy about a race that thrived in shadows like that — though Zelda would never have shared her opinion with the few people she'd managed to befriend.

"So what are you two doing here?" Sheik asked, opening the door to a neat, small room that was lined with weapons and maps of Hyrule on all four walls. She craned her head back and saw that the ceiling was a colossal map of a country that was almost entirely made up of swampland and forests.  _Democres,_ it said in snaking, twisted black letters across the bottom. Each forest, swamp, and mountain was labeled in the same lettering, but the words weren't anything she could pronounce. _Dsaklimossfdgen? Prqnotca?_ These weren't words; they were jumbles of letters. What kind of tongue could say them? "And who are you?" he asked, picking up a pile of metal stars and flopping down onto his bed.

"This is Zelda," Impa said, wincing as he tossed one of the metal shapes into the air and caught it. "And you're not going to be throwing those in here, are you?"

"You can duck. A fighter must be unafraid of anything." He tossed one at her with the flick of a wrist, and she grabbed a pillow and held it in front of her. Ripping the star out, she hurled it back at him, examining the hole in the pillow.

"We need to talk to the King of Hyrule," Zelda explained, watching Sheik glare at Impa and hold out his hand for the torn pillow. The star was embedded in the wall above his head. She didn't know what kind of relationship Impa and Sheik had, but it reminded her, bizarrely, both of herself and Dimitri — she winced at the thought of his name, but pushed it out of the way — and herself and her brother, Naran. The way they annoyed each other reminded her of siblings . . . but every so often she'd see Sheik's eyes dart down to Impa's not-inconsiderable breasts and slide up to her face before looking away.

It was an odd relationship, indeed.

"Why do I care?" Sheik said, tossing a star at the wall behind Zelda's head; she threw herself to the ground, not realizing until she was down that she didn't need to duck, that it would have missed her by at least a foot even if she hadn't budged.

Impa turned to him, her eyes wide with mock innocence. She looked like a cat that had been caught with its paw in the family's store of milk and knew that she'd get away with it. "I thought you were brave enough for any kind of adventure."

"And the adventure here is, what? An exciting conference? A thrilling meeting? Would there perhaps be the joys of filling out paperwork and waiting in line?"

"Not exactly." Impa stood, stretching — and Sheik's eyes slipped downward again. "Zelda here can't get anywhere near the castle without either being executed on sight or thrown into the dungeon."

Sheik looked at Zelda with new appreciation. Then his eyes narrowed. "And what exactly makes you think that I'll escort a wanted criminal into the castle? _I'm_  still loyal to the Sheikan order, and thus to the Royal family."

"As am I," Impa said. "I'm loyal to all Hylians. Which happens to include a lovely young stranger who was lost in Hyrule and was accused of being a traitor for no good reason, and who needs her name cleared." Impa smiled at Zelda, and Sheik stared at them both, his eyes widening. Zelda flushed and looked down.

"When did you get cool, Imp?" he asked, climbing to his feet.

Impa grinned. "I've always been cool," she said, watching with an appraising eye as Sheik moved around the room, gathering weapons. Zelda smirked and pretended she didn't see. "You've just been too stupid to notice."

* * *

"It's not that I'm not impressed with your ability to sneak into town," Impa said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "It's just that I was wondering when we would get to the going-into-the-castle part of the plan." She shivered and pulled her cloak closer around her. It was cold and rainy, just the kind of night to spend huddling behind a pile of Lon Lon Milk crates, watching the lights in the surrounding houses turn on and off.

"I thought you wanted me along to help," Sheik muttered. "If you weren't going to appreciate it, why did you practically drag me out the door?"

"I  _do_  appreciate it," Impa said with a sigh. "Honestly, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"That wounded-puppy routine every time I try to say something. You're so touchy!"

"Touchy? Let's talk about last week, why don't we?"

"Let's not," Zelda said, leaning back and resting her head against the wet stones that made up the house they were ducking by. The weather wasn't getting any drier, her muscles weren't getting any less cramped from the endless crouch, and the two Sheikah's constant bickering wasn't getting any less annoying. "We can all pat ourselves on the back when this is done. Until then, I'm a little nervous sitting here with twenty guards posted outside, eager for my blood. The sooner this is all settled, the better." Impa and Sheik glanced at each other and rolled their eyes in unison, an act that only served to darken Zelda's mood. "Aren't you supposed to be warriors?" she snapped, almost loud enough for their one foil — a little girl sitting outside with her dog and playing in the puddles, with an older man standing in the doorway with his arms crossed — to hear. "Isn't part of that all about focus and  _silence?_ And preferably some sort of way to escape one five-year-old and her father? The rock-in-the-stream thing may have worked for the guards, but I think that the dad is going to notice anything and anyone that comes within a mile of the girl."

They both nodded, not looking very happy about it. "Okay, fine," Sheik said. "Zelda, hide behind that big crate." He pointed to the box that was hidden farther back in the alley. "When Impa gives you the signal, run. Get to the Temple of Time — it doesn't matter that you don't know what it is, it's the one building that looks like a big stone temple — and wait for me and Impa. I'll . . . take the dog, and the girl and her father will go after it. Impa, when we disappear, give the signal and run. Go around the house so that you can't both get caught, just in case the guards are alerted. I'll slip into an alley, get rid of the dog, lose the people, and come back to meet you. Simple enough. The guards should all be outside the castle or the market, so we don't have to worry about them until we get closer. Ready? Good."

"Wait! What's the signal?" Zelda asked.

"This is the stupidest plan ever," Impa said. "Seriously, you've spent four months taking Strategy and Espionage classes and  _that's_  the best you can do?"

"Shut up."

"That's the signal?" Zelda said, stupid from the exhaustion and stress of the previous few days.

"Why don't  _you_  come up with some espionage strategy, then?" Sheik snapped at Impa.

"I haven't  _taken_  those classes yet. You're a year ahead of me, remember?" Their voices were getting steadily louder, and the little girl was glancing their way. The father, Zelda noticed, had ducked into the house, and she shoved Sheik forward, crawling behind the large crate.

"If you're going to do it, do it now."

He sighed and lunged forward, grabbing the dog and hugging it to his chest. The little girl stared at him in horror, then opened her mouth and screamed. " _DADDYYYYYYYYYYY!_ " The sound cut through the rain with eardrum-shattering intensity honed by years of practice, and lights turned on in all the nearby windows. In a flash, the father was back in the doorway, armed with a long-necked bottle.

"Oh shit," Sheik hissed, then took off with the little dog in his arms. Impa, in a misguided attempt to avoid a confrontation, held the girl's shoulders and tried to calm her.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, the bad man won't get your dog, we'll find him, he'll give it back, it's okay, just stop screaming, please." The little brat just kept wailing. People were poking their heads out of doors and demanding what was going on in bleary voices. "Oh, for the love of Nayru, SHUT UP!" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zelda dart out from behind the crate, sprinting down the alley in plain sight, illuminated by the lights from the house behind her. She would have called out, but she figured that Zelda had bolted before she'd thought the motion through, and knew full well that it wasn't a good idea. She didn't want to call more attention to the blonde Hylian — or, in fact, to herself.

"STOP!" the girl's father roared, brandishing the bottle. He was roughly the build of a Goron, and Zelda stopped in her tracks. People snatched up bottles and boards of wood, moving towards them in a wide, uneven circle.

"Is someone threatening Maybelle, Joran?" one of them called.

"Those two," Joran said, gesturing with his bottle. "Another one stole the dog."

A gasp rippled through the crowd. "Not Flopsy!"

"FLOPSYYYYY!" Maybelle shrieked, and Impa decided that there was no way a confrontation could be avoided at this point.

"Zelda,  _go!"_ she cried, and let go of the girl's shoulders, turning and sprinting into the first empty alley she could find. The crowd followed her, possibly because she was the one who'd given the order, probably because she'd been the one who'd been menacing — in their eyes — the little girl. The father, however, was the only one who followed Zelda, after making sure that Maybelle had been handed off to one of the women of the town. Impa had to hope that Zelda could handle one man. If not . . .

She raced through the streets, dashing past — almost hitting — crates and barrels that would pop out of the darkness. She pressed herself against the wall and closed her eyes, hoping that the shadows would blanket her the way they always did, and she could slip away undetected.

The lights in the house behind her turned on, casting her long shadow onto the stones in front of her. She swore and started running again, looking for some sort of way out. There was a wall in front of her, decorated by banners bearing the Royal Family Crest. She leapt at it, grabbing one of the banners and shimmying up it, cursing the silk as it slipped through her fingers and almost made her fall. She sat on top of the wall, looking down at the crowd that gathered below. For a long moment they just stared at each other, but then she stood and lifted her hands up to her head. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone," she said. "I was not trying to do anything to that little girl, and I didn't want any sort of attack."

"What did you want?" one of them shouted.

"To get somewhere safe without being . . . well, seen." She shrugged, knowing that if she mentioned that one of her companions was on the Wanted posters at the entrance of the market, there was no way she'd be allowed down safely. "Listen, it's late, and we're all jumpy. I personally have a little liquor I'd like to sleep off, and I think it'd be best if we just forgot this and went to bed. No one got hurt, and everyone has a lot to do tomorrow, right?"

They grumbled amongst themselves and, to her amazement, turned around and walked away in groups of twos and threes, muttering. "I hope we never see _her_ friends here again," one woman said. "If I hear even a whisper of someone being hurt by them . . ." "If I see them around, they'd better watch out."

Impa sighed with relief and sat back down on the wall. "Who knew that angry mobs were quelled by simple logic and exhaustion?" she whispered to the still night, which had stopped raining at some point during the chase.

When the mob had cleared away, she slid down to the ground and sneaked over to the Temple of Time, praying that her friends were as safe as she was.

* * *

Zelda slammed the door to the Temple of Time shut and ran to the end of one wall. She'd lost Joran, or hoped so. There was a chance that he'd seen the hem of her skirt or the tips of her hair as she flew around a corner. But still, she thought she had at least a few minutes to find a hiding place, even if he had seen her.  _Luckily_ , she thought, looking around at the huge, white temple with only an altar in it,  _I chose the most open building in the world to hide in. If he saw me, I'm as good as dead._ She, too, had noticed the posters of her face plastered on the wall of the town.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the altar wasn't lined up against the wall. There was an area behind it big enough for a normal person. She ducked into the crack and curled up into a ball, knowing that there wasn't really anything she could do if he found her; considering the number of options, if he looked in this temple, he _would_  find her. She clutched her skirts up around her knees and closed her eyes, ignoring the strange warmth of the wall next to her.  _Don't let him find me._

The door opened and she held her breath, listening to it creak shut and the holy silence fall over the room again, broken only by the humming that made the air buzz with . . . something. She heard whoever it was take a few steps and fall to the floor with a groan. Deciding that the odds were in her favor, Zelda climbed to her knees, peeking over the top of the altar.

"Impa!"

The young woman looked up, her silver hair falling out of its ponytail, and smiled. "There you are. I was worried that the angry father had found you."

"No, I lost him. At least, I think I did." She crawled out of the hole and hurried over to her friend. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. We had a civilized chat, and the mob decided that they would rather sleep in their warm, cozy beds than play in the puddles with me. They all went home."

Zelda stared at her. "You're not serious, are you? That's the least warrior-esque story I've ever heard."

"Well, it's not cowering behind an altar, but it got me here safely," she said, giving Zelda a pointed look. "Besides, the Sheikah are also known for their finesse and diplomacy. It's not all blood."

"Help me! I'm bleeding!"

Zelda and Impa started at the familiar voice, and rushed out of the temple. Sheik was hopping on one leg at the foot of the steps to the temple. His other foot was trapped in the jaws of a ferocious terrier that was growling and drooling all over the ground. "I can't get him off without hurting him," he said through clenched teeth. "I don't want to cause a scene."

"I think you've already accomplished that," Impa said with a sigh. "Let's hope that father's gone home already."

"I can get him off," Zelda said. "I worked with animals for a couple of years, and I got pretty good with dogs." She knelt down next to the dog, which, now that Sheik had stopped moving, was happily gnawing on the boy's leg, its eyes closed with jubilation. "Flopsy? Hey, Flopsy!" She held out her hand, which Flopsy ignored. "Come here, honey. Let go of the nice boy's leg."

"Oh, Din," Sheik muttered, looking up at the sky and shaking his head.

Zelda ignored him, caressing the dog's mangy coat. "You don't like that nasty boy," she crooned. "Just let go of his leg, and we'll get you a nice treat, huh?" When this yielded no results, she wrapped her hands around its bony ribcage. "Lock your legs, Sheik," she instructed, and pulled back on the dog. Sheik's hands closed into fists, but he didn't make a sound as the dog's teeth were dislodged from his leg. Impa ushered Sheik into the Temple. Zelda waited until all three were inside before setting the dog free into the streets.

Sheik sat down and pulled up his pants leg, wincing. "Wow, look at all that blood," he said. "You'd make a  _great_  healer."

"The scarring will be minimal, I think, and you certainly won't bleed to death."

"That's a world of comfort, thanks."

"Well, if you hadn't been so stupid as to get the dog stuck on your leg in the first place —"

"Stop it!" Impa snapped. "You two sound like . . ."

"Like  _you_  and Sheik?" Zelda asked.

Impa snorted. "Yeah, I guess you do. So what do we do now?" she asked Sheik, who was wrapping bandages around his leg.

"Haven't gotten that far," he said with a confident grin. Impa put her head in her hands. "Don't worry, I'll figure something out." He bit his lip for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "Just have. Let's go."

* * *

Quahi opened her eyes, struggling to rest on her elbows. Voices bounced against each other, giving her a headache. After a few bleary moments, she remembered what had happened; it didn't improve her headache.

 _"Quahi?"_ The voices echoed off each other, becoming louder and more frantic.  _"Quahi?"_

She sat up, shaking her head, and glanced down at the little gold Triforce. It was gleaming, lighting up the dim clearing.  _You, again. What did you do this time?_ she thought with a sigh.

 _"Quahi!"_  The bushes on the edges of the clearing rustled, and Moko's head poked out, a mane of leaves framing her frantic face.  _"There you are! Listen, I-I tried to stop them, told them that you were safe, but they were_ certain _that the youiko had killed you. Or kidnapped you. They —"_ She hesitated.

Quahi stared at her friend, suspecting where this was headed.  _"What, Moko?"_

_"They've . . . they're going to kill him."_

She swore and struggled to her feet.  _"Those idiots don't have a peaceful bone in their bodies,"_ she muttered.  _"Where did they go?"_

 _"Princess."_ Moko held her by the shoulders.  _"Listen, maybe it's fine. We'll find him and it'll all work out. Somehow."_

Quahi looked at the ground.  _"Unless, of course, we don't reach them in time. Then those fools will . . ."_

 _"Kill him."_  Shouts were heard off to their left. They only had a few minutes before the other girls came by. Moko sighed.  _"Look. Come with me, okay? I think I know where he is."_


	6. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demi knows what he must do, and who will save him.

Sheik sat on the roof, one hand resting on the stone gargoyle glowering down at them, his eyes closed. Impa and Zelda huddled in a corner, waiting for the signal to do . . . whatever he was planning on doing. After having found the way through the courtyard onto the roof — which seemed like the least likely place where they'd be spotted by anyone, and the easiest way to get to any room in the castle (on the top floor, at least) — he was at a loss. If they'd brought more supplies, he could find a way to get down safely, but the rain had started up again and it was getting increasingly slick up there.

Impa stared at him, her feet slipping toward the edge of the roof. "What are we going to do now?" They were positioned over the prince's bedroom; at least, that was what Sheik hoped. Light shone from the window, which meant that he was still awake — and possibly not alone. They couldn't risk being caught by anyone other than the prince, but they couldn't live up there forever.

"You  _do_ know what you're doing, right?" Impa said, glaring at him. "You have a plan. Because if you don't, we're just idiots on a roof."

Sheik opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "We need to talk to the king, right? And the prince will be more likely to listen to Zelda than his dad'll be. But we're not sure if this is the prince's window, so someone will need to check. And I, for one, think that Zelda should, since she's the one who knows him."

"What are you talking about?" Zelda asked. "We've all seen him. Anyone could tell what he looks like." She didn't bother to mention that  _she_  hadn't recognized him on first sight. She didn't live there, so why would she be expected to?

"Yes, but if he turned around, he would be less afraid to see you out the window than me or Impa."

"I think he'd freak out either way. With our luck, he'd have a heart attack." She raised her eyebrows, hoping that the gesture would hide the way that her hands were shaking and her shoulders were tensed like she expected a blow to the head.

"He  _knows_  you."

"I . . . I can't. I just can't."

"You have to."

Zelda stared at him, pleading with him to understand. "I . . . I can't do this. I'll do anything else, but . . . no.  _Please_."

Sheik leaned over the edge of the roof, hooking his arm between the gargoyle's shoulder and its wing. He pointed down to the window. "Look, it's only five feet down, tops. This is easy." There was no way he was going to let her get out of this. Apparently Sheikah were immune to such trivial things as phobias.

She sighed. "I . . . Fine. Just for a second, though. If it takes longer than that, you can just forget it." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, imagining sliding down the wall with Impa or Sheik's hands on her wrists, the stones of the wall slipping away from her feet with every step, her body buffeted by gales of wind over a drop far too long to a landing far too painful. Their hands, slick with water, losing grip. Her scrabbling at the stones before impaling herself on a flagpole or smashing against the ground in a broken, bleeding lump. Her eyes snapped open. "I don't think I can do this."

Sheik shook his head. "Nope, you agreed," he said. Impa grabbed hold of her ankles, and Sheik wrapped his free hand around one of Impa's. "Go on," he said.

Now the visions were of her falling headfirst, to be impaled or smashed with every inch of terror right in front of her face. She froze, afraid to pull away for fear that she would tumble off the edge of the roof. "Oh. No."

"Come on," Sheik cajoled. "This is how all the Sheikah do it."

"I am not a Sheikah," Zelda said. "Which is exactly why  _you_  should be doing this."  _Calm, calm, calm,_ she whispered to herself.

Unlike Sheik, Impa was not in the mood to try and convince anyone. "Put your hands on the wall and crawl down like it's horizontal," she said with a sigh. "An idiot could do it. In fact, an idiot has." She glared up at Sheik, who was too busy watching her ass to notice.

"Shut up," he said, though Zelda figured that he was just saying it because he expected her to lob an insult at him more than that he was actually listening.

Zelda took another deep breath, figuring that the longer they stayed up here, the number their hands would get and the more likely she'd fall to her death. All things considered, climbing seemed her best bet, no matter how much she'd prefer to live up there and stay far away from the edge and eat pigeons. As she pressed her hands against the wall and allowed herself to be lowered in a movement that was smoother than she ever would have expected from any human (Sheikah or Hylian), she couldn't help but call up, "Oh, yeah,  _this_  feels safe," in a voice that was, to her credit, only a little high-pitched and shaky.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Zelly!" Sheik shouted, sounding so much like Dimitri that her hands went numb. Impa kicked him, causing their entire human ladder to shudder and Zelda to pitch forward with a shriek.

 _"Shh!"_ Impa hissed. "Secrecy is the most important element to any successful infiltration. Any sign of our presence could cause the enemy to —"

"Shut up, Imp," Sheik said. "Zelda, just keep your hands on the wall. That'll steady you if the wind picks up. We'll keep lowering you down. We will not drop you. I promise."

The sudden change in his tone calmed her. It seemed that, whatever Impa said, Sheik  _did_  have both a rational and a compassionate bone in his body. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to slide down the wall without a sound, keeping her eyes shut and her breathing slow and steady. She thought about Sheik's voice.  _"We will not drop you. . . . We will not drop you. . . . I promise. . . ."_

She cracked one eye open. "Stop!" The top of the window was coming into view, and she could see the maroon walls and part of the cream ceiling of a bedroom. If she kept going, her hair would have been visible to anyone inside. She squeezed her eyes shut again, pushed off of the wall, and gathered her hair in one hand, gratefully pressing the other against the cool, slick stones again. "Okay. Go." As the room inched past her, she saw inside the outline of a person in bed. From the fluff of blond hair sticking out of the blanket, they had found the prince's room.

The door eased open, a tall woman with long black hair tied into a bun slipped into the room, and after a moment Daphnes sat up. "Pull me up!" she cried, her voice shrill with panic. Once she was safe (relatively, at least) on the roof, she scrambled away from the edge, breathing hard. "I don't want to do that again," she said, holding one shaky hand to her mouth.

"You did fine," Impa said, once it was obvious that Sheik had abandoned the reassuring demeanor. He was leaning over the edge, looking down at the room through the haze of the rain.

"Was it the right place?" he asked.

Zelda nodded. "Definitely. It was the place. I did what you told me to. I'm done now, okay?"

Impa groaned, but Sheik glared at her. "We'll deal with that later. Was someone else in there?"

"A woman. I don't know who. She looked angry. Maybe they'll talk for a while."

"We have to be out of here before daybreak," Impa said. "There's no way the guards will miss us when the sun's out."

"Hours to go, Imp." Sheik turned back to Zelda. "Listen, I know you don't want to go back down there —"

Zelda shook her head. "Won't."

"Right. But, listen, you haven't really done what you need to. We've still got to talk to the prince, make sure he can get you off the Most Wanted list and back into the castle. You need to be there to help the Zora. So . . . we'll give you ten minutes to rest, but then we have to lower you down again." Zelda's eyes were growing with each word, and he hastily added, "And the sooner you get into the prince's room, the sooner you'll be safe on solid ground. And not on this roof."

She stared from him to Impa and back again. Impa tried for a smile and held out her hand, which Zelda took. "I don't want to wait ten minutes," she said.

* * *

Daphnes knew who was knocking on his door even before she spoke. "Prince Daphnes."

He set his book on the floor and curled up into a ball just as the door opened, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He heard the gentle click-clack-clack of her heels as she crossed the room, standing over him in the same position, he knew, as she always stood over him: feet planted shoulder-width apart, hands on bony hips, long nose pointed down at him like an accusing finger with nostrils.

"Prince Daphnes, I have an urgent matter of which to speak with you." They were all urgent matters. Nothing, however, was urgent enough to talk about in the middle of Chapter Fifty-Six. He took another deep breath, making sure to make a soft, snuffling snore that was as convincing as the real thing. There was a moment of silence, and then the woman, who went by the formidable name of Miss Menac — which, as Daphnes had tried to tell his parents when he was younger, was just one letter shy of "Menace" — tapped her foot three times. CLICK-CLACK-CLACK.  _"Daphnes."_

He groaned inwardly, then faked a huge yawn and a stretch. "M-Miss Menac? What a lovely surprise," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "What brings you here?"

"Your affinity and talent for falsehoods will suit you well in your later years, especially when it comes to the matters of marriage." She perched on the edge of the bed, smoothing the skirt of her long-sleeved, high-necked red dress. "But that is not what I wish to discuss. I need to speak with you about the missing woman. Zelda, did you say her name was?"

"Yeah," Daphnes murmured. His eyes were fixed on the spot just behind Miss Menac's left shoulder. That spot happened to be right where his window was. "What about her?"

"Your parents would like to know whether this woman said anything . . . well, anti-governmental-establishment-esque." When Daphnes didn't reply, or even look at her, she narrowed her eyes. "To you. Recently."

Daphnes shook his head, and Miss Menac nodded. "Well. I suppose that should be all for tonight. You seem rather tired. We'll talk more about this in the morning. Eight o'clock on the dot." He didn't say anything, and she nodded again to herself. "Good. Have a pleasant sleep, Prince Daphnes."

"You too," he said, and barely noticed when the door creaked shut behind her. He refused to look away from the window.

If he kept staring long enough, there was the possibility that Zelda might appear again.

* * *

Zelda couldn't help but notice how cold Impa's hands were on her ankles, couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for their hands to lose feeling entirely and loosen enough for her to plummet to her death. Still, she kept her eyes on the glowing rectangle of light below her head.  _Warm, safe. Warm . . . safe. Dry. Safe. Warm._

With the words repeating in her head, she kept her eyes open as she slipped down the wall. "I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm okay. I'll be okay."

"There yet?" Impa shouted, apparently having forgotten her insistence on quiet. Before beginning the hellish trip down again, Zelda had taken a good, long look at both the people who'd be saving her from a sudden, nasty end. Sheik had seemed in pain, and had kept rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck and back. Impa had looked like she was going to fall asleep at any moment. Both seemed irascible, and she figured that they were just as eager to get inside as she was.

Zelda didn't answer for a second, focusing all her energy on the next step. Taking a huge breath, she called up, "Just another foot!" and prepared to pass into Daphnes' view. She hoped he wouldn't try to get her shot. She hoped the windows opened inward, or at all.

And strangely enough, she hoped he was happy to see her. Not just because she needed him, though that was certainly true. As weird as it seemed, she missed him; he was the first and one of the only people to treat her kindly since she'd arrived, and he was always eager to help her out. Despite the reasons she'd left the castle, and despite the adventures she'd had, part of her still wished she could have stayed and continued to play cards and wander the huge building with him, making up histories for the people in the portraits and tapestries. Those were nice days, if a little boring.

So she took a deep breath and tapped on the window, watching his pale, thin face turn to hers.

* * *

"Zelda," he whispered, and scrambled out of bed. He'd almost given up, and had returned to his book with many glances towards the window between paragraphs. But there she was, her skirt held between her knees, her hair blowing in a face dirty and exhausted and scared. He rushed to the window and threw it open, taking her upper arms and drawing her into the room. "What . . . what happened? Are you okay?" He fought the urge to hug her and bustled around the room. "I-I don't have anything for girls to wear, but I have some clothes you might like. They'd be a nice change from the wet," he said, and snatched up a shirt and pants, holding them out for her inspection. "Would you like them?"

She smiled and accepted the offerings. "Thanks, but I have to make sure my friends can get down here." She went back to the window and stuck her head out, making sure to clutch at the windowsill. Daphnes recognized it in a flash: the white knuckles, the shaking legs. Zelda was afraid — hell, "terrified" didn't seem like such a far-fetched word — of heights. She shouted something that was lost in the wind, and stepped back as a young man and woman leapt into the room.

"Sheikah?" he said, looking from one pair of red eyes to the other. "What's going on?"

The man held out his hand, which was wrapped in dripping white bandages. "Name's Sheik. Got any clothes for me and my Imp here?"

Impa shoved him aside. "Prince Daphnes, we need your assistance. Zelda will fill you in on everything." She bowed, and then she and her friend began rummaging through his drawers, pulling out clothes and making faces at them. When they'd both found outfits that were suitable, they disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Zelda and Daphnes alone.

"I always thought Sheikah were supposed to be all-business and . . . well, civil," he said faintly.

"They've been through a lot," she replied, flopping down on the floor in her soaking clothes. "Wanna hear about it?"

* * *

 _The ocean stretched out in front of him, its clear blue waves shimmering. But there was something dark about the water — or maybe_ in _the water — that made him dig his heels into the sand. "I can't go in there, I can't, I can't, it's —"_

"You can, and you will," _the voice hissed at him. He felt his feet move, but he didn't move them. He felt his breath catch, as though he was running hard, but he wasn't running. He wasn't controlling his body._

_"What's going on? I don't —" A hand — his own — gripped his neck, strangling him._

_The evil voice snarled again,_ "You don't have to understand. Just  _shut up!" The hand loosened, and he continued his steady pace as though nothing had happened. No matter how hard he tried, his fingers wouldn't unclench from their fists, his legs wouldn't change their rhythm. He couldn't even close his_ eyes _, by the Goddesses!_

_He reached the water and looked down. If he could, he would have jumped away, or cried out, or . . . anything. His hair was spiky and reddish-brown. His eyes were an evil, piercing red. He had long yellow fangs that looked canine. With the sight, whatever had had its hold on him vanished, and he managed to stagger backwards and collapse to the ground, sobbing._

_The message was clear: The relic that had a hold on him, the darkness in the waters, the darkness that was really all around, had always_ been _all around . . . it wasn't going away. It wasn't going to be beaten. It was going to sink its teeth and dig its claws in deeper until they became a part of him. Until there was no difference between him and the thing he feared._

_Message received._

* * *

Demi woke up with a cry, the sunlight hot and heavy on his skin. "What . . ." he moaned, before collapsing backwards, the effort too much to expend.

_What are you doing? Get up! They are coming after you!_

Dimitri wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth, trembling. "Go away," he whispered, knowing it would be useless.

 _They are after you! Get_ up _!_

He rose to his feet shakily. "Who are after me?"

_The girls on the beach! They want to kill us!_

Dimitri rubbed his eyes again, feeling a little less like his skin was stretched too tight. "They want to kill  _you,"_ he said, staggering into the shade. "They don't give a damn about me."

 _You and I are the same. You found me. You followed me. You are_ mine _. There is no going back._

The bushes rustled, and Quahi hurried out. She held onto Dimitri's hands and stared at him, her eyes pleading. " _Demi_ ,  _hino yae kirara nolu! Youiko, di niso-re!"_

He had no clue what her words meant. But he thought that the Dark Triforce did.  _What is she saying?_ he thought. It didn't respond.  _Come_ on!  _I'm yours, aren't I? We're on the same team, aren't we? I deserve to know what's going on!_

_She . . . wants us to follow her. The girls are after you, and she wants you to escape._

He had a feeling, from the reluctant way it repeated her words, that it was telling the truth. "All right, then. Let's go." Quahi stared at him blankly. He nodded.

Another girl, with long hair and black eyes, entered the clearing. She smiled.  _"Tinai gra dans, no-see? Youiko ist raino."_

 _I was right, wasn't I? The boy is here._ The Dark Triforce translated her words.

A spear sliced through the air and landed in a tree. Battle cries were heard from beyond the clearing. Quahi grabbed Demi's hand and pulled him through the forest. He had no clue where they were going, but Quahi seemed to know, and she led him and the other girl — whose name was Moko, he learned eventually — to the beach on the other side of the woods.

She gestured to a boat that was anchored by the shore.  _"Finia der."_

 _Get in._ Dimitri nodded again and climbed into the boat.

Another spear flew through the air towards Dimitri. He ducked to the side and it hit Quahi square in the chest. Her eyes flew open, and she gripped the thin wooden shaft with shaking hands. A small cry escaped her lips, and she fell to her knees. Moko ran to her side. She pulled the spear out of Quahi's chest, and wrapped long white bandages around the wound.  _"Mai ty terru. Mai ty terru."_

_You'll be okay._

The girls stood in the shadow of the forest, staring in shocked horror at what they had done. One had the sense to rush over and help their princess. Another looked up at the sky, and cried out,  _"Kuoo tih, wes ghu!"_

_Look out, the sun._

Moko leapt back, just missing the rays. The beams of light hit Quahi, and she shrieked, her body going rigid. The light hit her skin, and the red welts covered her, bleeding and burning. Steam actually rose up into the afternoon air. Her skin charred and blackened, peeling off in little flakes. A horrible scream filled the air, making Dimitri cover his ears and scream with it. Finally her body went limp, and she whispered, so softly that only Demi and Moko could hear her: _"Edill."_

_Run._

Demi grabbed the boat and pushed it out into the water, taking a long knife and cutting the rope holding the boat to the shore. Moko stared at him, looking more sad and scared than angry.  _"Hablai est-id lok-id?"_ she shrieked, holding the broken body in her arms and struggling to her feet.  _What do I do now?_ The other girls began shouting curses at him, throwing spears, rocks, anything they could find. But he was out of their range, and they had to wait for the sun to set to come any closer.

Finally the little island disappeared in the distance. Demi clutched the little oars, blocking out anything except the soothing back-and-forth motion of the rowing.

Of course, some things wouldn't be forced out. _You see now, don't you? That girl died because of you. We are one and the same. You cannot escape._

"That was an . . . accident," he grunted, making himself row even faster. "Not . . . my fault."

 _It_ was _your fault. You were_ there, _you were the reason she gave up her life. You are not the saint you think you are. You are not the boy you were a few days ago. You are mine now, and you will never be simple again._

Dimitri ignored him. Back-forth, back-forth. The watched the ripples the water made, felt the swells of the waves under his ship. They were like a heartbeat, pushing him forward. He liked that idea.

"I am part of this," he said to the Dark Triforce. "This force of nature. Hyrule. I'm connected to it. Are you?"

_Everything you are, I am. Everything I am, you are._

He laughed, the sound as sharp and alarming as a dog's bark. "Oh, yeah? So you're saying that I'm now thousands of years old and disembodied? And you're a teenage boy who's girlfriend is . . . well, who knows where she is?"

_Your girlfriend? Was she, really?_

No. Not really. Not the way he'd always wanted her to be. But that didn't matter, because he'd loved her long before she'd even noticed him, and they'd had a bond before they'd even spoken. She was his, and he was hers, just as much as he was the Dark Triforce's. If he had such light as hers within him, he had to be good.

Zelda hadn't told him where she was going. But then again, she hadn't told him that she loved him, and that was obvious, too. If there was anyplace in the Great Continent that she would want to go, it would be Hyrule.

And so, to Hyrule he would follow, for his love and his salvation.


	7. Taking Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphnes has a crazy plan, and Nabooru meets her king.

Koume looked out the window of her little hut. Her eyes scanned the rolling sea of dunes as though she could see the farthest reaches of the desert.

"Koume! Get away from the window!" Kotake's harsh voice echoed from the back of the house. "Do  _something_  useful, won't you?"

"But where is he?" Koume asked. "He's supposed to be back by now!" She paused. "You don't think he went back to the Gerudo, do you?"

"Of course not," Kotake snapped, entering the room. She held a pot filled with a green potion. "He wouldn't abandon his mothers, now would he? Hold this."

Koume nodded. They'd raised him from birth. Of course he respected them. "But don't you think that he'll want to be with his own people?"

"We  _are_  his own people, Koume. We're Gerudo. The fact that we were banished is irrelevant." She took a vial out of her pocket and filled it with the shimmering liquid, then held it under her sister's nose. "Does this smell right to you?"

"Yes, but I don't think —"

"Listen, Koume, I'm sick of arguing this with you. He will not leave. For Eliena's —"

" _Shh!_ " Koume leapt to her feet, her hands fluttering like small birds. "Don't invoke her name!"

Kotake sighed; her sister was so superstitious, just like the others. "For the sake of the Desert Goddess, then, where would he  _go_? The Gerudo don't want him, as far as he's concerned, because they don't want us. We've taught him everything we know. Well . . . most of what we know." She took another sniff of the potion, then slipped the vial back into her pocket and grabbed several large water jugs. Dipping one into the vat, she said, "We've raised him the right way, and so he's not Gerudo enough for them. They won't want him, and he won't want them. When he's ready, we'll send him to take over and be our kind of King. Until then, he is perfectly content."

"He'll leave soon, ready or not." She shifted the pot, wincing at its weight. "I don't know if he's even happy here anymore. He'll want to leave, won't he?"

"Of course not. Just trust your sister." She took the vat back from Koume with a sigh, muttering about her weakness. "Ganondorf won't abandon us ever, and he won't take back the Gerudo until we allow it."

* * *

Nabooru knelt down, her face inches away from a spot of turned-over sand. "Damn. I think we missed it."

Her friend Krysu shook her head, eager for the chance to prove Nabooru wrong. "I don't think so," she said, pointing to a nearby dune. "Stay here."

"No way!" She leapt into the air, sprinting for the area of sand. "I want to catch it!" As she approached the dune, there was an explosion of sand, and a red Leever burst into the air. It whirled around and zoomed toward Nabooru, who had to roll out of the way. She snatched up her scimitar. "That little bastard's gonna die!"

Before she could move, however, Krysu's sword chopped it in half. She scooped up the pieces and stuck them in her basket. "That's one for me," she said, a smug little smile on her face. "Thanks for waking it up, Naboo. I could never have gotten it without you."

Nabooru cringed at the nickname, her face turning red. "You filthy Shiekah! You  _tricked_  me!"

"Hey, you're the best fighter our age.  _Someone_  has to be the smart one."

Nabooru vowed to get every single Leever they found. She was faster and stronger than Krysu; that catch was just dumb luck, and her friend knew it. "This isn't over. I'm going to have a Leever feast tonight."

"You don't even  _like_  them."

She opened her mouth to retort — " _Hey, it's food"_ was the first reply that came to mind — when something caught her eye in the distance. It was definitely not a Leever, since they weren't close enough for a red one to attack, and it was moving with too much purpose to be a blue one. Besides, it was much too big.

"What's that?"

Krysu didn't even look up; she was busy scanning the desert. "Oh, you're not tricking me with  _that."_

"No, I mean it." She stepped closer, crouching behind a dune. "I think it's a person."

As they got closer, they realized that it was a boy. He was picking up sticks and throwing them as far as he could. He had shoulder-length red hair and orange eyes that were strange for their species, but aside from that he was definitely a Gerudo. He ran out of sticks and picked up a long scimitar, swinging it back and forth almost lazily.

"Think it's a mutt?" Nabooru asked.

"What? That's impossible! Mutts don't exist, and you know it. Gerudo would never dare mate with anyone that wasn't —"

"If anyone still believes that nonsense, I'll eat my sword. Half of us  _are_  mutts." Her eyes lit up as another idea occurred to her. "Could he be the king?"

Krysu threw her hands up into the air, almost revealing their hiding place. "Now you're just being ridiculous. Of course the king is alive somewhere so that he can preserve our sacred bloodline, but it is far from likely that his heroic soul would keep him so near our home without him coming to rescue us and restore the throne!"

Nabooru sighed. "You really do eat up all the crap the elders feed you, huh? Most of them don't even believe that stuff." She glanced around the dune again, her legs itching to move. "I can't sit here any longer, and we're not going to get any answers hiding out here, are we?"

"Talking to a male who is not the king —"

"Is forbidden. Exactly. But if he is the king, then I'm in luck, huh? So I'm gonna go talk to him. Have fun picking Leevers."

"Wait —"

Keeping her hand a safe distance from her sword to avoid appearing threatening, Nabooru climbed out from behind the dune and strode toward him, making sure to stomp on the sand so that he wouldn't be caught by surprise; it was never a good idea to scare someone with a sword. Once he'd looked up, she allowed her fingers to creep a little closer to her scimitar. "Who are you? Name  _and_  rank," she said, hoping her voice held the right amount of authority and contempt.

He didn't appear perturbed. "Gannondorf. No rank that I know of. And you?"

She lifted her chin, trying to hide the fact that the name had rung any sort of bell, even if she couldn't remember where she'd heard it. "That is none of your concern." The seconds stretched by, and she blurted out, "Are you authorized to live in this section of the desert? It is under Gerudo control."

The boy smiled; it was sneaky and a little smug. "My mothers don't need authorization to live here."

 _Mothers?_ Nabooru wrinkled her nose. Lesbianism was technically forbidden in the Fortress — as was all non-reproductive sexual activity — but was something almost all Gerudo indulged in now and again, and more frequently if the king was ugly (or missing). However, it was never something that interested Nabooru. Then it hit her: Ganondorf.

_"Is there still gonna _be_  a king? I mean, are we just stuck unless we find Ganondorf . . . It's been fifteen years. I don't even think people are even still looking since Koume and Kotake took him."_

She'd been eavesdropping on the three women once she'd heard something about a Hylian in the valley, and the mention of the king had surprised her too much to find a good hiding place (which was probably part of the reason why she'd been immediately sentenced to scavenge for Leevers). The mothers had to be Koume and Kotake, and that made this boy — without a shadow of a doubt — the king of the Gerudo.

A small smile touched the corners of her lips. Krysu was going to be so mad that she was wrong.

"Well, Ganondorf, I think that I am authorized to tell you that you are playing on Gerudo ground, and that I will be forced to take action."

He looked up, a spark of anger in his eyes. "Playing? I was training!"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Pretty poorly, then. If you'd like to learn how one would train to actually  _win_ a fight, I could deign to teach you. However —"

 _"Nabooru!"_  Krysu appeared at her shoulder and grabbed her arm. "That's the gong. We have to go back for training."

Nabooru hesitated, weighing the punishment of being late versus her desire to find out more about the king and what he was doing all the way out there. She'd missed plenty of training practices, and the results were painful and sometimes humiliating. "Meet me back here around sundown if you want to learn how to fight," she said, and walked away without another word.

* * *

"Listen to me, Daphnes, they are starving out there."

"Zelda, I don't understand exactly what you expect me to do. I'm not the king, and I can't help the Zoras  _or_  the Gerudo."

Sheik and Impa stood in the corner of the room, looking at all the jewels and finery. Impa smacked Sheik's hand for pocketing a gold watch. With a sigh, he returned it to its spot. "I was gonna give it back," he muttered.

"When?"

"After I got a good amount of money for it."

She slapped his arm. "Grow up. Don't be such a Gerudo."

Zelda sat cross-legged on Daphnes' bed, watching him pace around the room. He kept shooting her anguished glances and running his hands through his hair. Finally she sighed and demanded, "Okay, tell me. What  _exactly_  is your problem with talking to your father about the Zora?"

He opened his mouth, gestured vaguely with his hands, and then sighed and shook his head.

"Does your dad really scare you that much?" she asked.

"It's not him," Daphnes said. "It's just that . . . I'm going to be the king someday. I'm going to have to make these huge, Hyrule-changing decisions. And do I think I can do that? Sometimes I do. But that isn't the point." He climbed up onto the bed and knelt in front of her, his words coming faster and more urgent. "The point is that everything I say  _now_  is being judged by the king's advisors, to see how fit a king I will be. And if they don't like what I say, then when my father dies, I will have no power and the kingdom will be run by them. And I don't like to speak poorly of my soon-to-be advisors, but they're not the most generous and understanding of people."

Zelda looked confused. "Couldn't you just have them fired or thrown in the dungeon or something when you're king? You'll  _be_  the king."

"You fail to understand the nuances of noble court at all, don't you?"

"No. I grew up on a farm, remember?"

He nodded. "Ah, right. Well, these men have been around for a long, long time, and they know who to talk to and what to say to make sure that nothing you suggest will ever be made into law — including throwing them into the dungeons. A king's law is not always absolute if it isn't backed by his advisors, and none of them will support being fired. My father still has the power to make decisions because he chooses ones that favor the Hylians, at least as far as he power spreads."

"Which is far?"

"Vast. The Hylian king doesn't technically rule all of Hyrule — the Zora, Gerudo, and Goron domains are each under their own leaderships — but Hylians provide such a large number of services to the rest of Hyrule that, if the king didn't like, say, the Gerudo, he could make it so that none of our trade would make it to them, or to anyone that supported them."

"And the Gerudo would have nothing to eat."

"And they would have nothing to eat," he repeated, obviously pleased at her understanding. "So I have to make a good impression on them so that I might still be able to manipulate them into doing what I want when the time comes."

"This is all  _very_  fascinating," Sheik said from the corner of the room, where he was lounging on a pile of pillows, "but can we either get something done or order food?"

Zelda ignored him. "And he would never support the Zora? Your father, I mean."

Daphnes sighed. "My father is a loving man when it comes to his family and friends, but he is still ruled by his advisors, and has had years of prejudices built up by flawed lessons in school and a sheltered lifestyle. Only by achieving slight freedoms and exploring the lands of Hyrule on my own have I been able to escape —"

"I'm going to shoot myself," Sheik groaned. "Impa, hand me the arrows."

"Fine." Zelda glowered at Sheik, and then turned back to Daphnes. "So what do you suggest?"

He looked down at the floor. "I'm not sure," he began. Then his head snapped up and he beamed. "You!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you!" He took her hands. "You're something of an . . . an oddity. Not one of the court, and not even one of the mainland. You have no natural biases towards the Hylians or the Zora, nor do you have any prior knowledge of political or socio-economic struggles between the two. Don't you see?"

Zelda had always considered herself smart, but she hadn't understood most of that last sentence. "Not even a little bit."

"You're a diplomat of the best kind! Well, without a noble background, of course, but that might work in our favor, since you would be able to confuse him with your way of speaking. He tends to agree with things that confuse him so that he doesn't sound idiotic. You might be able to convince him to take action."

"My 'way of speaking'?"

"Don't worry, it's quite quaint." Zelda thought about getting angry at that comment, but it was obvious that Daphnes would have no idea what had offended her, and he was so excited that she couldn't upset him; it would have been like yelling at a happy puppy for being too loud.

She did still have to bring him back to reality. "I don't know a whole lot about diplomats, but I have a feeling that most of them aren't wanted for being Gerudo spies."

He looked puzzled, then laughed. "Espionage?  _You?_  Who would ever be foolish enough to think such a thing?"

"Your father."

"Oh." He deflated somewhat, and slumped back against the headboard. "Surely there is no proof to support this."

"I stole a horse and went into the Gerudo fortress."

He sighed. "Of course you did." He sat up. "I'll just have to tell them that it's not true, and that you simply didn't know where you were headed. They did not accept you, did they? You were chased away?"

"Somewhat."

"Good! And the Zora rescued you. . . . Wait." Daphnes looked at her. "The king doesn't believe in goodness for goodness' sake. We need a reason for why the Zora would rescue you."

"They knew that Zelda was precious to the prince," Sheik said dryly.

Daphnes flushed and whipped around. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Carry on with your fascinating discussion." Impa grabbed his arm and dragged him out into the hallway. "We're going for a walk," she announced. "I think it'd be for the best."

Once they had left, Zelda turned back to Daphnes. "They needed my help. What other motive could they have?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure my father will like that, but I suppose there are no other options." He stood to go downstairs, and turned back to her expectantly. "Are you not coming?"

She raised her eyebrows. "If I leave your room, I'll have ten spears in me before you can say a word."

Daphnes ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose I must concede to your point. What if you stay here until I can convince them of your innocence, and one of those two Sheikah you were with can come to fetch you." He turned toward the door. "Do you suppose that they will be willing to argue for your case?"

Zelda laughed. "Daphnes, I don't think you'll be able to find them. They're either halfway to home or the dungeon."

He sighed. "I will do what I can. Just . . . don't go anywhere. If someone comes, hide."

She saluted with two fingers and grinned. "As you say, Your Majesty." He flushed at the formality and hurried out of the room.

* * *

"You are well aware that you are a serious risk for all of Hyrule, and that your stay and actions will be closely watched?"

Zelda nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor as Impa had suggested. "They like everyone to know that they're the most important people in the room. Especially her."

"And that this acquiescence is not an agreement of your innocence, but a —  _reluctant_  — acknowledgement of an apparent lack of proof for your guilt." She clicked her tongue and waited; a nod was not going to be sufficient. The queen wanted to  _hear_  Zelda admit how much power she had.

"Yes, Your Highness. I understand."

"Good." She sat back in her chair, silently turning the meeting over to her husband. He nodded at Daphnes and allowed him to step forward.

"Father, Miss Zelda has come to me with an urgent message from our allies, the Zora. I will allow her to relay their message, but would like to add how much faithful service we have received from the Zora in the past decades, and how much we owe them every day."

Zelda refrained from rolling her eyes, but as Daphnes stepped back and escorted her forward — though "shoved" might have been more accurate, since the pressure on her back wasn't nearly as gentle as it could have been — she whispered, "Smooth. Very regal." He gave her one last push, and she stumbled a bit. Trying her best to regain her dignity, she straightened her dress, lifted her chin, and began. "Your Majesties . . . ah . . ." Her mind went blank. Was "Majesties" the proper term for it? Were they both, in fact, Majesties? Should she have said "Highnesses"? Was that a word?

Daphnes cleared his throat, which snapped her back to reality.

"I come as an ambassador . . . or, an unofficial diplomat . . . for the Zora!" There. She was getting somewhere. She was here for the Zora. "They are facing a serious problem with fish. As in, the fish are gone, and since that's all they eat . . . they're worried about it." She turned to Daphnes desperately, but he smiled and mouthed, "Quaint." Quelling angry responses, Zelda returned her attention back to the king. "They've sent a letter, and they suspect the Gerudo are behind it. The situation, not the letter. They're worried that the Gerudo are sneaking into Hyrule, which would kind of suck — I mean, be a huge problem for us. As Hylians. In Hyrule. So . . ." She handed him the letter, which was damp and wrinkled, and sighed; she hoped more than anything that she hadn't just ruined Prince Zora's last chance. Maybe Daphnes was right, and the King would find it confusing or cute or whatever. "That's the problem," she muttered, while the man read over the note.

"I see. Hmm. Well," he said, folding the letter closed and putting it in his pocket, "that's quite a problem they have. What if the Gerudo were no longer granted time in the Market?" Zelda was confused for a moment, until she thought back to the entrance of the little town; the sign had read "Gerudo can only enter on the third and fourth days of every week from noon to midnight. Any violators will be arrested." The king continued. "If they were truly stealing the Zora's fish, then I think that they have forfeited their right to trading with us." He looked down at her. "I thank you for your assistance, and am sure that this will reflect well on you when we consider your future in Hyrule."

Daphnes moved closer to Zelda. "Is that all?" he demanded. "Would it really be so much trouble to send a few men down to the Domain and help them look around . . . ?" He fell silent, looking surprised at his outburst.

The king smiled, and it was the first genuine smile that Zelda had ever seen from him. "My dear son, your desire to help others is rewarding. However, you are still too young to understand reality. We cannot send our men to help the Zora — putting us at a greater risk, no less — on such little proof as a strip of cloth. You must realize that."

Daphnes nodded. "Yes, Father," he said, looking down at the floor. "Thank you."

After they were safely out of the throne room, Zelda said, "You know that won't help, right? It will just make everyone angrier."

"I know." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "But I do not know what I can do."

Sheik muttered, "Bet that Triforce idea isn't looking so dumb now, huh, Imp?"

Daphnes froze. "The Triforce?" he said. "That's a possibility."

* * *

"I swear, Krysu, he's the King of the Gerudo. I get to train the King of the Gerudo!" Nabooru leaned back in her chair until it was balancing on one leg. "Clearly the goddesses have recognized my obvious talents and are rewarding me for them," she said with a smug grin.

"Well, then, your incredible talents will be tested when you're sneaking out."

"What?" Nabooru asked, popping a Leever into her mouth and bringing her chair down. "Why would I? We're allowed to exercise outside the Fortress at night."

"Apparently Lenea saw you hanging out talking with him, and she was mad. She said that you couldn't go anywhere, and that you have to talk with her after dinner."

Nabooru paused. "You're telling me that Lenea saw me talking to the king of the Gerudo, and the only thing that came into her mind was to yell at me?" She laughed. "I mean, I'll be the first to admit that I'm annoying —"

"Second," Krysu muttered.

"— but I still feel that maybe,  _maybe,_ it might be more worthwhile to investigate what the king is doing out in the desert. Wouldn't you think?"

Krysu sighed, refusing to be won over by humor. "She said that you were talking to someone, and that she thought it was a merchant from Ryia. She wants you to stop flirting and told me to tell you that the least you could've done was steal from the guy. She expects to see some very good treasures."

"Really? Lenea said that?"

"She trained under Aveni. You shouldn't be surprised."

Nabooru rolled her eyes. "Well, you're just so much fun today, aren't you?" She considered asking what was wrong, but there was no point. Krysu was too well-trained to give into anything as silly as sharing emotions. Besides, Nabooru was late. "Listen, tell Lenea that I thought I could get something better if I met him later at night, where we weren't under pressure from the heat and my duties. She'll eat it up, I promise." She snatched up a piece of dried meat and hurried out the door.

"Hey! That's mine!"

Nabooru didn't turn around. The Gerudo were thieves, after all. Krysu would just have to get used to it.

* * *

A wave crashed over the side of the little boat, overturning it. Demi held on to the edge, praying that he would get to Hyrule alive. The water calmed, looking as pristine and beautiful as usual. Dimitri pushed the boat upright, climbing back in and scanning the water for any lost supplies. It was getting harder every time a wave came, and part of him wanted to abandon the effort.

 _There._ The image of a hand, pointing to the west, flashed into his mind for a second. Sure enough, when he turned in that direction he saw his little bag of food and the hilt of a knife bobbing in the ocean.

Dimitri nodded a weak thank-you to the Dark Triforce and rowed over to the supplies, tying them to his belt with numb, clumsy fingers. He was getting exhausted fast. "The waves are brutal, aren't they?" he said weakly. "Nothing like the . . . like the waves . . . and the sea. . . ." His mind was getting distracted. "I'd like to sleep," he said to himself. When he couldn't immediately come up with a reason why he shouldn't, he laid down on the floor of the boat and closed his eyes.

 _Get up!_ the Dark Triforce snarled at him, sounding a bit panicked.  _You have to make it to shore. You're dehydrated._

"Dehy . . . No water?" The second he said the word, his tongue seemed to moan with pain. It felt like a piece of dried fruit, and his spit seemed to have congealed into some sort of glue that stuck the walls of his parched throat together and made it hard to breathe. "Not worth it," he mumbled, and let himself drift off to sleep with the frightened voice of his master shrieking in his mind.

* * *

Zelda put her hand on Daphnes' shoulder. "You're not serious, right? I mean, I thought that the Triforce was just a dream." She looked up at Impa. "Isn't that what you said?"

Impa sighed. "It's a fool's fantasy. A magic relic that would grant peace and wealth to all of Hyrule?"

"Not if I got it," Sheik said with a grin. "Just a lot of topless women."

Impa decided to ignore that comment, as did the others. "Your Highness, it really isn't a viable solution. You must realize that."

Daphnes wasn't listening to any of them. "It sounds insane, I know, but if you really think about it . . ."

"It's twice as insane," Zelda said.

"Open your mind, Zel. I mean, Miss Zelda." The nickname disarmed her — and the backpedaling even more so — and she sighed.

"All right. For the sake of argument, let's say that it's real." Impa rolled her eyes and walked away with Sheik on her heels. "Why hasn't anyone found it?"

"They're not as lucky as we are." He grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hall, pausing in front of his door. "Miss Zelda — unless I may call you by an abbreviation?" When she nodded, he said, "Zel, whatever you do, don't tell anyone about this."

"About your crazy search for the Triforce? Don't you think everyone will figure it out eventually?"

"No, not that. Just come in." Daphnes closed the door behind him began pacing a path from the bathroom door to his bed and back again. She sat down on the bed and watched him think aloud.

"I know I can't find the Triforce on my own, and I doubt you can find it. So I thought that we could get help."

"From who? The Sheikah? I don't think they'd be too successful, especially since they've been searching and failing for a while now."

"No, not them. Not anything living."

"We're gonna get the help of a dead person?" This conversation was taking an absurd turn.

"Of course not." He turned to her. "You've heard of the tribes?"

"Who?"

He shook his head. "All right, the quick version." He sat down next to her and looked down at his quilt, which was for some reason a map of Hyrule. "There are six tribes of beings on the mainland of Hyrule. I don't think that they travel much, so you may not have met them before. But here, in Death Mountain — this one, in the top corner — live the Gorons. They're hard to describe, but suffice it to say that they are large and eat rocks. They may also be made of rocks; my education on this has been limited. The Gerudo live over on the other side of Hyrule, in that desert you're sitting on. Their fortress is right by your . . . well, that isn't important. You've met them. As you could imagine, they're very good fighters."

"Yeah, the women. Are the men even better?"

"There's only one man born every one hundred years, their king." He opened his mouth to continue, but Zelda had to stop him.

"How does that work?"

He shook his head, irritated. "I have no idea, Zelda. It just does. The Zora are over by my knee. You've met them, too. Next to their Domain is the Kokiri Forest. Most people say that it is empty — too dangerous to live in, you know — but there is fable that it is filled with magic that kills everyone but this small race of children, called the Kokiri. They are protected by a tree, if memory serves, that decides who can live in the forest and who cannot." Zelda considered commenting on this, but could tell that Daphnes wanted to get to his main point. He added, "The Sheikah are like the Gerudo in many ways in terms of fighting and lifestyle, but they protect the Royal Family of Hyrule. And . . . I'm not sure where they live." He waved his hand over the Market Town. "Maybe they're spread out? They don't like to tell us more than they have to.

"And then there are us. Hylians."

"Right," she said, still not seeing where he was going. Daphnes nodded to himself, deep in thought and seeming to forget Zelda was in the room. Clearly this was a topic he'd given much consideration.

"You've heard of the Spiritual Stones, of course."

Zelda thought back, biting the inside of her cheek to help her remember. She knew she'd heard something about them in school. "Aren't there three?"

"Yes. One belongs to the Gorons, one to the Zora, and one — supposedly — to the Kokiri." He tilted his head to the side, his mouth curving into a smile. "Does any of this sound familiar, or do I need to inspect the classes taught on the islands?"

She shrugged. "I know I learned about it. They open the Sacred Realm, too? Like the Triforce?"

Daphnes shook his head. "No one is quite sure. They are reputed to do something incredible if brought together, but since no one has managed to find the Kokiri's Emerald" — he noticed her blank expression — "one of the Stones — it's a moot point, and many people have given up." He noticed that she was about to ask why and said, "The Forest of the Kokiri is considered one of the most deadly areas in all of Hyrule. Hundreds of men have entered it over the centuries, and none of them have returned. From what we can gather —"

"From peeking in from a safe distance like frightened little children?" she teased. He blushed, and she knew that she was right on the money.

"— it's a labyrinth. There must be dangerous creatures in there as well, because one can hear them howling, and the monsters that appear at night might well live in there in the sunlit hours." He noticed her smile and added with some embarrassment, "Of course, this is pure speculation."

"So what do we do to get the Triforce?"

"We go into the Forest."

Well, that was a reasonable answer, considering how safe it seemed. "And what if we get killed?"

Daphnes smiled at her. "Zelda, there's always a risk of being killed. You can't live without it. Literally." She didn't look convinced, so he put his hand over hers. "The reward would be peace and prosperity for  _all_ of Hyrule, and that far outweighs the danger."

She sighed and said, "So we get the Triforce and get out? That's it?"

"That is it."

"But how do we find it? You said the Forest is like a maze."

"That's where the Spiritual Stones come in. They are connected to the Triforce, and might provide some as-yet-unseen insight. In all likelihood, we would only need one."

For a second she wondered why he wouldn't bother to get both — wasn't he curious to see what would happen? — but was suddenly hit with a memory. "They're not going to want to part with their Stone, are they?" When Daphnes shook his head, she continued without a complaint. "Who are we taking the Stone from?"

"I think the Zoras are the best bet. They know you. They like you."

She nodded. "So we grab the rock, head off into the Forest, and try not to die?"

"Unless you have a plan that is more likely to succeed."

"Unfortunately, I don't." And she knew better than to argue with a prince, even if it  _was_ only Daphnes. She climbed to her feet and crossed the room to the wardrobe, which she rummaged in for a few minutes before hauling out a large black bag, which she shouldered. "But I'm thinking of one as fast as I can."


	8. No Going Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheik gets Impa into trouble, Ganondorf returns to his people, and Demi crosses a line he'd never expected to come close to.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

When Sheik heard the voice, his first instinct was to leap into the nearest shadow and disappear. However, the three loaves of bread in his arms would make that difficult. Besides, he was a guard of the Royal Family, or someone he knew was. The Hylians should be more respectful of their needs. He took a bite of the nearest loaf.

Like hunger.

He turned to the two approaching Hylian guards and smiled at them. "How are you today?" he asked the smaller one, hoping that the stripes on his helmet indicated seniority.

The short man stared up at him. "What are you doing with those loaves of bread?"

Sheik smiled. "My friend asked me to pick up some food while she was off guarding the prince Daphnes. She's a very important person in the Sheikan force, you see, and she's on duty all the time. No chance to eat at all!" He knew that he was safe; how could they find fault with that argument?

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. "If I had a rupee for every time I heard something along those lines, do you think I'd be working here?"

Sheik decided that had to be a rhetorical question, and just smiled wider. "Well, sir, I sure do swear it's true!" he said, trying (and failing) to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He glanced around in a movement that he hoped was surreptitious, wondering exactly where Impa had gotten off to and when she was planning on returning. As his gaze returned to the guards, who failed to look impressed by his charming demeanor, he hoped that she would be able to bail him out of this mess.

"Listen," the taller one said, "we don't have the resources to feed every hungry person who staggers into the castle."

"I'm not asking you to feed everyone who's hungry," he replied. "Just me."

The two men shot irritated glances at one another. "It's not that we don't sympathize —" the short one began.

Sheik saw a glimmer of promise and lunged at it. "You  _don't_  sympathize!" he cried, lifting one of his bread loaves into the air with the fervor of a revolutionist. "That's just the problem! You don't care about anyone who doesn't hand you a paycheck, anyone who looks different! Do you realize that my comrade and I—" He looked around in vain hope that she had reappeared "— haven't eaten since yesterday morning? That's over twenty hours! Would you make your children starve for that long?"

"Comrade?" The short man nodded to the taller one, and the latter disappeared down the hall. Once they were alone, he stuck his face in Sheik's. "Just . . . gimme one of those loaves. Preferably one without your spit."

He handed it over, his eyes wide. Was this some sort of trick? Or had the guard decided that his day was long and difficult enough without having to arrest some teenager? "Uh, thanks?" Sheik had expected the guard to take a bite out of it immediately and was surprised when he slipped it into his pocket with exaggerated care. "Hey, you're not even going to eat it?"

The man shot Sheik a glare that, while it didn't frighten him — it would take a lot more than a low-rank Hylian to do that — made him pause. "It's for my children," he said. "Now get the hell out of here. That son of a bitch —" he jerked his head in the direction of the other guard "—probably has your friend by now. I'll check the dungeons and send him toward the town proper if I find him."

Sheik nodded and watched the man leave, too startled by the encounter to remind him that the person he was looking for was actually a girl.

* * *

Ganondorf huddled against the stone wall. He was wearing a long black cloak that covered most of his face and was regretting it by the second; it was incredibly hot out even though the sun had already gone down. Traffic in and out of the Fortress was increasing as the day cooled, and he amused himself with trying to figure out where they went. Everyone who passed gave him a wide berth. His eyes flicked up to the guard posts on top of the wall and was met with two suspicious faces. They were trying not to stare at him, but their gaze flickered back to him no fewer than every few seconds.

As their king, he'd give the women points for vigilance, but he was pained by their lack of subtlety. The Sheikah traveled in veils of shadow, and it was rumored that nobody could tell what one was thinking. If these women were any indication, the Gerudo were bumbling and tactless in comparison.

He heard a hiss to his right. Glancing over, he saw a flash of fire, brilliant in the darkness. He could make out a vague outline of a woman and knew who it must be. "Ganondorf! Over here!"

Slipping around the corner, he almost ran into Nabooru. She had a cloak draped over her arm — lucky her, not needing a stifling disguise. She jerked the torch away from him deftly, and he was once again impressed with her ability. A rush of warmth flooded him that had nothing to do with the weather.

Finally, he would be able to learn how to fight like a Gerudo, a real  _warrior._

When he'd asked his mothers about returning to the Fortress to learn how to fight, their anger had surprised him. "You will learn nothing from those imbeciles!" Koume had snapped. "Smashing swords against each other . . . snatching pathetic trinkets out of purses . . . and all the while putting yourself in peril!"

Kotake had grabbed a handful of Ganondorf's long hair and drew a brush through it with more ferocity than was necessary. "Spells can do all those things and more, without all the pesky grunting and sweating." The two women had shared a look and burst into cackling, leaving their son to stare from one to the other in confusion. Kotake had looked down at him and continued brushing, a little calmer now. "The Gerudo are superstitious, Ganondorf. They don't believe in all the wonderful things magic can do. But you know better. If you stay with us, train with us, then you'll be able to show them what a gift from the goddesses magic is and revolutionize their society."

He'd said, "And bring you back with me."

They'd smiled at each other, and then at him. "Of course, dear."

Ganondorf knew that he could do just as much damage with a spell — rend flesh, burn buildings and people, make objects levitate out of shops and houses into his arms — as he could with a scimitar or whip. And, of course, magic could create force fields and do plenty of good. But at the same time, there was something visceral and sacred about learning the same fighting techniques that all the Gerudo had learned for centuries. It was like absorbing their power and knowledge into his veins.

He turned his eager gaze on Nabooru, who smirked and stepped away. "What do we get to do first?" he asked. "Sparring? Agility tests? Hunting?"

At the last her eyes lit up. "I was just trying to figure out a good way to test your skills," she said, her smirk dimpling and spreading into a full-on grin. "And hunting sounds like just the thing."

"Great," he said.

"Good." She watched him, an almost expectant expression on her face, but as he had no idea what it was she wanted, he began to walk in the general direction of home. There were many miles between his humble little shack and the Fortress, so surely there would be something to fight. She let him get rather far ahead of her, loping behind him with her hands in her pockets and her eyes on the sky. Ganondorf began to feel resentful; why would she volunteer to train him and then neglect him? He was prepared to say something when her fingers curled around the base of his head, forcing him to an abrupt halt. "Not that way. Turn left here."

He did as she ordered, rubbing the spot where her fingers had been.

"Oh, come on. If you're such a baby about pain that you'll cringe and moan about a little pressure, there's nothing I can do for you," she snapped. He could tell that she didn't mean it, though, as her expression was slightly more amused than irritated. So he swallowed his retort and let his fingers fall from his neck. She clicked her tongue, impressed. "Ganondorf?" she called when she noticed that he had picked up his pace considerably — in fact, he was almost running. As she broke into a sprint, she realized that he was about to overshoot their destination. If he wasn't careful, he might just run into something he wasn't prepared for. "Ganondorf!  _Stop!"_

Nabooru had expected him to come to a halt immediately, turn sheepishly back to her and apologize for his behavior. He might be their future ruler, but he was still a stupid kid who hadn't learned a thing from his old witch-hag mothers. However, to her bewilderment he sped up, his feet kicking sheets of white sand into the sky, where they fell on her in a glittering shower. It would have been beautiful, and his rebellion a pleasant surprise, if she'd had time to notice such things.

Her feet skimmed across a fat dirt road that was almost entirely covered by blown sand. This had been where she'd intended to stop, to allow Ganondorf to observe the many black-market traders from Ryia — the neighboring country — that made their way into Hyrule at night. If time had allowed, she would have taught him how to pick their pockets or trick them out of their most valuable items. This was "hunting" as the Gerudo figured it. And it wasn't too surprising, was it, for a people surrounded by very few creatures of their own to prey upon fellow humans?

But her wayward student was almost across the trade route and headed into the deep wilderness of the desert, where she couldn't guarantee his safety. And the man was pulling away from her with an ease that was upsetting.  _"Your Majesty!_ " she shouted, using a final burst of speed to halve the amount of sand between the two of them.

He froze. His eyes wide, he stared at where she had staggered to a halt, her hands on her knees. He was tempted to collapse from exhaustion, but he managed to keep himself upright. "What did you say?"

Between huge gulps of air, she replied, "Well, you're the king, aren't you? Isn't that what you call royalty?"

He remembered his mothers coaching him on his response.  _Deny it. There will only be trouble if people know who you are. It's safer for us if you lie. It's safer for_ you _if you lie. Just say, "I'm sorry, but I don't think you have the right person." It's for the best._ "I'm sorry, I don't think you have the right person."

"Bullshit. Who else would you be?"

"Well . . ." His mothers, shortsighted despite their cleverness, hadn't bothered to create an alternate identity for him. "I could be a mutt."

"But you're not." Having regained her breath in a matter of moments, she stood and smiled at him with her hands on her hips. When he sighed and his shoulders drooped, she gave a triumphant laugh and pulled him away from the edge of the road. "Rule number one, don't go over there. It's not safe."

"You're giving me orders?"

"Why wouldn't I, if you aren't the king? You're still my student, anyway, and if I say not to go past this road, you won't. Got it?"

Ganondorf cursed himself for his stupidity. "Got it," he said. "Is that all? I mean, I didn't mean to tire you out. . . ." As a matter of fact he had, and had hoped that by her exhaustion she had learned that he wasn't just a weakling in need of bulking up. He was a fighter, though his skills needed refining. Besides, he was her king, and he deserved some measure of respect.

She put her hands on the small of her back and cracked it. "Nah, I'm good. Say, what if we went back to your homestead — I  _assume_  you have some sort of training area that we won't get mobbed by Gerudo for using — and I'll see exactly what you're capable of."

"Um . . . well, okay." He was surprised. To be honest, he was flabbergasted. He'd spent many hours wondering what it would be like when he took control of the Gerudo Fortress. He'd expected adoration, admiration. He did not expect . . . this.

As they were walking, Nabooru said, "So why haven't you come home? You must know that we've been looking for you. And seriously, we could use a leader. Those Hylians are sucking us dry."

"I don't know. I just know that it's not time."

She smirked. "Your mothers tell you that?"

"Yeah, so? I always assumed it was part of some prophecy. They're good with those."

"You'd never wondered if maybe they had selfish reasons for keeping you there? I mean, not to insult your dear mommies, but we kicked them out for a reason."

He laughed. "Actually,  _you_  didn't do anything. You weren't born yet."

"That's irrelevant. Answer the question."

His brow furrowed. He had never wondered, and now that the idea occurred to him, he couldn't understand why it had never crossed his mind before. Why exactly couldn't he return to the Gerudo? He didn't have any more magic to learn — or at least nothing that Koume and Kotake were willing to teach him; his lessons had ended last year. He was a man by Hyrulian standards, and he wasn't any less likely to convince the Gerudo that his mothers were safe than he would be in the years to come. Besides, he realized with a pang as he looked at Nabooru, he was starved for company.

Suddenly the idea of being kept away one more day was unbearable.

As this occurred to him, they came upon his home. Nabooru couldn't see it and stuttered to a halt, looking around with wide eyes. "I don't know why . . ." she murmured, "but for some reason I feel like I should head home now. Maybe we could train some other time?"

Ah, the force field. It was a work of genius, he had to admit. He took her thin wrist in his hand and pulled her along. "Don't worry, you'll be fine," he muttered as she tried to writhe out of his grip. "I can't go, I have to leave," she said in increasing desperation. The field was longer than Ganondorf had expected: twenty feet thick, more or less. Near the end Nabooru's thrashing grew so frenetic that her nails raked long red gashes along his arms and face; she almost clawed his eyes out.

Once they were through she went limp, with only one hand clenched on his shoulder for support. After a few minutes she stood, still looking uncomfortable and itchy to leave, but without the fervor of previously. Trying to shake off her embarrassment, she gestured back at the patch of sand. "So. What was that about?"

He shrugged. "My family doesn't like people to intrude. You'll get used to it."

"I don't really wanna get used to it," she snapped. "I still feel like I should run as fast as humanly possible away from here." Her gaze was sharp and direct. "Is that the spell, or are my instincts just really good?"

He flinched. He didn't want to lie to her, but . . . "Probably a little of both."

"We'll just get this over with, then?"

"Wait!" he said, his chest tightening. "Does this mean you won't train me anymore?"

"Not here I won't," she replied. Her expression was fierce, but her mouth quirked up for half a second. "If you want any more training, you'll have to come to the fortress. And I think you'll have a lot of explaining to do."

Just the thought of making the decision to leave his mothers made him weak, but he focused instead on the training he'd get among his own people. "I'll let you know what I decide."

She looked at him, baffled. "Is it really that hard a decision to make?" When he just stared at her, his eyes surprisingly hard, she shrugged and looked away. "All right, then," she said. "So I'll see you whenever you decide to come back." She started to leave, and he could see her body relax as the spell took hold of her again and edged her away from his home.

Ganondorf let himself relax a bit, too. If Nabooru left without any more interference, perhaps his mothers wouldn't take offense at her intrusion. She'd be able to get home safe. He was just about to say a quick prayer to the goddesses for their mercy when she turned around.

"You're our king," she said. Like his skin was shrinking, he felt his mothers' magic tighten around them, the air pregnant with their power. "I'm not going to let you go."

He didn't respond; he focused his energy instead on communicating with his mothers.  _Please don't hurt her. Please let her go. I'll never see her again if you just let her leave._

With an exasperated sigh, she moved to slip back through the enchantments. She collapsed on her first step with an oath, cupping one foot in her hands. "Shit," she muttered, pulling a swath of fabric off her weapons belt and wiping at the injury with it. "I'll lose so much training because of this stupid cut."

A flash of light illuminated the desert. Ganondorf dove for her and shoved her out of the way as a streak of electricity tore through the sky towards them. Sand exploded into the air and swirled to a rest around them. He squeezed his eyes shut and held Nabooru closer, protecting her as much as he could. Cool water pounded at their backs, hitting the ground and evaporating into mist.

Nabooru sat up. "Rain," she whispered, as though it were a myth that she'd heard of, but never seen. In fact, that was probably the case. She turned to him, awed. "Is this magic?" As though to answer her question, another bolt of lightning shot towards them. It missed, but the force of the blast flattened them to the sand. Nabooru landed stomach-down on top of Ganondorf, and the dagger he held unsheathed at his waist dug into both of them. Before another strike could do further damage, he hauled her to her feet and yanked her through the barrier, past the sphere of his mothers' influence. Inside, the storm raged, unable to get at them through the protective enchantments. It was beautiful.

A strangled hiss drew his attention away from from the spectacle. Nabooru had curled herself into a ball, her face dripping sweat and rainwater. The dagger had hurt Ganondorf, slicing through his hip to the bone, but he had been lucky; the cut was deep, but narrow, and a meager diet meant that his hipbones were more prominent than most. As a consequence, there just wasn't much flesh for the knife to cut. His sparring partner was another story. As he pried her arms away from her stomach, he saw that the blade had slid into the narrow gap between her ribs. The damage was impossible to assess, but there was a lot of blood.

He lifted her into his arms as gingerly as possible, ignoring her weak protests that she was fine, that she could still kick his ass without trying. The fortress had never seemed so far away, not even when he was a child and couldn't imagine a day when he'd be able to be reunited with his family.

Still, he was young, strong, and desperate, and they managed to make it to the gate with minimal incident. His hands full, he kicked at the door until the guards were roused. When they recognized the unconscious bloody girl in his arms, there was a flurry of movement and three women rushed outside. Two of them acted with businesslike haste and calm, all but ignoring Ganondorf. One of them, however, couldn't stop staring at him. She tried to usher him inside, but once he saw her securely transferred into their possession, he turned and left. He was sure they could heal her. But that didn't make him any less angry at Koume and Kotake.

As he reached home, he slowed until his movements were almost silent, listening to his mothers whispers. Unable to discern their words, he threw the door open and stood over the cowering old women. Kotake said, "Ganondorf, why did you bring a Gerudo to our home? Are you trying to kill us?"

The genuine fear in their voices weakened his resolve, but a glance down at his red-soaked chest and arms gave him strength. It wouldn't be easy to say goodbye to the only companionship he'd ever known, but now he saw that it was their fault that he'd never had any other friends. "Why can't I go back?" he asked coolly.

They had expected him to shout, rage, maybe even attack them. His relative calm filled them with hope. "Your power isn't yet developed enough!" Kotake cried.

"You're too young!"

"You don't have the authority to rule the way you should!"

He listened to their fervent explanations in silence. When they were done, he said, "And when were you going to teach me the necessary skills?"

"Ah . . ." The sisters faltered, hoping the other would answer that question. The truth was that they hadn't planned on teaching him how to rule. It had always gone without saying that when their "son" took power, Koume and Kotake would be in charge.

When five minutes had passed without a word, Ganondorf took Koume by the shoulders, kissed her forehead, and moved on to Kotake. "You two betrayed the Gerudo with your magic," he said, "whether you realize it or not. I don't think that my will is enough to bring you two back into the fortress, but I will do what I can to help you. I cannot, however, allow you to hurt my people. Any more attacks and you will be harshly punished." With that he was gone.

Koume sank onto the ground, surprised at how hurt his sudden disappearance left her. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice a weak croak.

Kotake didn't seem to be suffering from any sort of sentiment. She bustled around in the back, preparing her huge cauldron for some sort of spell. "We do what we were planning. Ganondorf is not ready for power, but perhaps we can use this to our advantage." She smiled, her teeth warped and rotted. "Besides, there's always the girl."

"What would we want with her?" Koume asked, climbing to her feet and standing over her sister's work.

"She's stubborn, powerful, but not particularly intelligent. He likes her well enough. If we can harness those affections, make them stronger, and use her naturally pliable mind . . . we might be able to fix him."

* * *

Ganondorf hurried across the sand, not stopping to rest until he reached the Gerudo Fortress. He banged on the gate. A guard looked over the top and narrowed her eyes at him. The shifts must have changed, because she wasn't one of the ones to spot him with Nabooru; however, knowing about what happened had made her suspicious. "Yeah?" she asked before catching herself. She straightened up and said, "State your name and business. Step away from the gate." She held up a crossbow and a quiver of arrows. "Move any closer or take out any weapons and I will shoot."

"My name is Ganondorf," he said, suddenly nervous. It was ridiculous to be, of course, but he was beginning to wonder if maybe his mothers were right. Had he acted rashly? "I would like — I  _demand_  — to take my rightful place as ruler."

Her eyes widened. "Th-that's quite a claim," she said, trying to keep her expression impassive. "Wait here." She disappeared over the wall, and he heard shouts, the name _Aveni._ His heart felt like it had squeezed into a tiny ball. According to his mothers, Aveni was the woman who'd given birth to him. _"Ganondorf, dear, you're lucky you never had to meet her. That bitch wouldn't have known what to do with a king, and she clearly didn't want to find out. We took you off her hands as a favor. It's best this way; you don't have to deal with her, and she doesn't have to deal with you."_

He couldn't trust anything they said. He knew that. Still, it was hard to shake years of unconditional trust, and when he heard the doors creak and squeal the strain, he fought a wave of betrayal and anger so powerful it frightened him. He stepped back, both to avoid the opening gate and to distance himself from this woman that for whatever reasons had never been introduced into his life. He prepared himself for what he'd say; " _Aveni, I've come to take back my people." "So you're the one who abandoned me." "Hi, mom."_

All words — the bitter and piercing, the desperate and lonely, every one amounting to the same thing:  _I miss you and I want to come home_  — died as soon as he saw her. She had his eyes, down to the flecks of yellow in the iris, to the ridiculous length of the lashes. At this moment, he was sure that they had the same guarded expression. There would be no question that he was their king, if there ever had been.

The only question left was whether they'd take him back.

* * *

Ganondorf had planned on being impassive, impressive, and overall very kinglike. He'd thought he would be in control of his return. He'd expected his subjects — and most of all his mother — to be overwhelmed with emotion, flustered. That was not even close to what actually happened.

What  _did_  happen was that Aveni looked him up and down, nodded, and turned away. "Come with me," she said, and he followed her as meekly as if she was the king. She brought him to a small room filled with cots, and with a flick of her wrist ordered him to sit down on one of them. A young woman appeared from the corner and stood over him, her expression similar to his mother's, but somehow even colder. A quick "Don't move. I'm a healer" was all the warning he got before she began to examine him, her deft fingers sliding across his cheeks, arms, chest, stomach. At one point she cupped a hand behind his neck and bent him forward, running the fingers of her free hand down his spine and pinching the muscles to either side of it. It was incredibly intimate, but somehow the least sexy thing he'd ever experienced. Part of it may have been the fact that his mother was only three feet away, watching with a stony expression.

Finally the woman stopped, leaving Ganondorf and stepping up to his mother. "There's no sign of the witches on him," she said. "He's a healthy young man."

She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips. "He's skinny. Hasn't been taught to fight."

"Not by physical methods, no," the healer agreed. "I assume that's what you were getting at."

"Ganondorf." He looked up at her, strands of red hair dangling in his face. Her expression softened when their eyes met. "Have you been taught magic?"

"A bit." Her eyes hardened and he added, "But not much. They didn't want me to learn more than . . . than I should."

"Of course not," she murmured. "Might become more powerful than them. They couldn't have that." Shooing the healer away, she sat down on the floor next to his cot, stretching her legs out with a sigh. "This wasn't what you expected when you got back," she said without looking at him.

He considered lying, saying something positive about Gerudo diligence that would make him look wise and dignified. But his first order as king couldn't be to lie to his own mother. No matter what kind of mother she was. "No," he admitted. "It wasn't."

"We can't be too careful. It was . . . horrible when they stole you. We knew you were nearby, that they could only run so far in their old age, but with all the enchantments —" She cut herself off with a strangled noise. The minutes stretched out before she spoke again. "It was frustrating. And we had to make sure you weren't some sort of trap."

"I understand." And he did. That small, muffled sound said everything that she wasn't allowed to. He was proud of her for keeping herself impartial, and knew that he needed to follow her example.

Presently she stood. "I have something for you," she said, her fingers fumbling slightly as she reached into her bag. "I had been holding onto it when I was summoned, and I just thought . . . thought that you would need it." She pulled out a crown and handed it to him. "It's yours."

He placed it on his head cautiously, knowing that whenever he wore it, the eyes of the Gerudo were on him.

 _That's a little scary, don't you think?_ The voice belonged to his mothers, and to the small boy inside him that didn't really want to be a king, let alone the king of a people who were starving and loathed universally. He knew that he would have to squash that voice, and he did his best, focusing instead on the beauty of the circlet he now wore. It wasn't so much a crown as a long metal chain. In the center of it was a silver design, and in the middle of that was an orange stone.

"Ganondorf," Aveni said, "you're young. But you can do this." It was the closest she would get to warmth, and he took comfort from it.

"I know," he replied, since that was what she'd want to hear. "I will."

* * *

Dimitri's feet hit the sandy ocean floor. He was not aware of anything. Not of the water, or of the tight feeling in his lungs, or even if he was alive or not. His eyes were closed, and he huddled in a little corner of his mind. He could hear the Dark Triforce, but couldn't make out the words.

Suddenly, the little black mark on his hand glowed a brilliant white, illuminating the dark water all around him. His eyes flew open, and they glowed with the same light.

The Dark Triforce pulled at his legs, bending them to push off the sand and send him flying through the water, straight up. He broke the surface and soared into the air, high enough to see above the waves in any direction. Dimitri didn't know what the Dark Triforce was looking for, but he was perfectly willing to let him drive for now. His mind was exhausted, even as his body dove back into the water and began swimming with no sign of tiring. He didn't know where they were going. He didn't care.

He almost roused himself as the familiar shape of the rowboat came back into view; there was no way this was going to end well. As his body hauled itself over the side, the pudgy fisherman watched with eyes that were first concerned, then horrified. "You —" he began, but whatever Demi was, he didn't hear. His hands lashed out with a speed that was inhuman and latched around his neck.

 _Wait . . . You shouldn't do this,_ he said blearily, poking his head out of the safety of his corner.  _Leave him alone._

His hands didn't slacken, even as the man's ruddy face became purple and swollen. Dimitri considered trying to take control, but decided it wouldn't be possible. He was destined to become the thing he feared, right? Besides, the man was probably dead anyway. And it was so much more comfortable to sleep. . . . He'd almost drowned, after all, and deserved a break.

Part of him knew that this was coward's logic. That allowing the Dark Triforce to do this was crossing a line. That instead of being a somewhat smug and obnoxious, but mostly nice guy, he'd become a despicable human being for whom death was too kind.

At that moment, he didn't particularly care.


	9. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koume and Kotake attempt to reclaim their son, Daphnes and Zelda go after the Zora's sapphire, and the Triforce calls out to its chosen.

"Do you think we should go find Impa and Sheik? They could help." She'd left a hastily-scrawled note wedged in the crack between the windowsill and the inside wall. Impa was always saying that Sheikah could see better (fight better, drink better; there was nothing they couldn't do, according to Impa) than other Hyrulians, so she had to hope that they could live up to their hype and spot the note before one of Daphnes' guards did. He hadn't bothered to leave a note, which Zelda thought was reckless. "They're going to search for us," she'd told him. "And they'll blame  _me_." To that he had said, "I will explain things to them" with a bright, cocky smile, shrugging off her continued complaints.

True to form, Daphnes gestured for her to be quiet. "It is imperative that we get out of here without being seen. Our search for the Triforce will not be well-received."

"I don't think my kidnapping you will go over much better." Once again, though, he shushed her, his gray eyes narrowing as he studied the castle entrance from their hiding place in a nearby closet with a cracked door. Pressing his nose up against the splintered wood, he whispered, "I suppose if we launched something at the guards, that might knock one of them unconscious, allowing us to slip out. . . ."

His wannabe-Sheikah attitude was going to get someone killed. With a sigh, she shoved the door open, pushing him back into the gloom and picking up a bucket and rag before striding up to the guards. She had a dark blue bandanna tied around her head, hiding her platinum hair and part of her forehead. Unless the guards had memorized the structure of her lower face, they would only see a maid in a thin cotton shift borrowed from the aforementioned closet, up particularly early to start her chores. "How's the mornin' gone?" she asked cheerfully, doing her best to exaggerate her Piquo accent; there were enough servants from the islands that she blended in well enough.

One of the guards chuckled, shifting under the heavy mail he wore. "You call this mornin'?" he asked, jerking his chin at the sky, which had just the faintest hint of lightening at the horizon. "The Stalchildren haven't even gone to bed yet."

Zelda shrugged, wrinkling her nose in an attempt to simultaneously convey cuteness and distort her features so it'd be harder to recognize her. "Well, I consider the day's started once someone asks me to move somethin' heavy from one place to another." She paused, looking the two men up and down. "Any chance you could help me?"

They glanced at each other. "We're not supposed to leave our posts," the first one said, though there was a hint of flirtatiousness in his tone. "We could get in a lotta trouble."

"They're just down the stairs there," she said, leaning forward and pointing; she knew full well that they weren't watching her finger, and as their gazes were diverted, she winked in the direction of where Daphnes was crouched. Turning her attention back to the men, she added, "Besides, I can watch the door. If any Stalchildren try to storm the castle, I'll ward them off with my bucket." She held it up, grinning.

The guards' laughed appreciatively, then headed off in the direction she'd pointed them in. Once they were out of sight, she waved frantically to where her friend and prince was cowering. "The other guards are pretty well-spaced out," she said once they were clear, remembering from her last time sneaking out. "We shouldn't have much trouble dodging them. By the way, Daph, you really need to improve the security here . . . what?"

Daphnes was staring at her, his expression a mixture of awe and fear. "You tricked my guards." She nodded. "You pretended to be a maid."

"I practically  _am_  a maid," she said with a laugh. "It wasn't a hard role to play."

He nodded to that, and they settled into their hiding place for the next hour or two: a large bush across from the drawbridge. After a few minutes, she felt his gaze again. " _What?_ " she hissed.

"I never want to make you mad, do I?" He seemed to be looking through and past her, his eyes fixed on some point in an unforeseeable future. "You're . . . you're a _goddess_."

She glowered at him. "Don't say things like that!" she said. "You're just begging for the goddesses' revenge." She settled back against the wall that the bush was snuggled up against, wincing as a branch dug into her back. "At least this dirt will make you less recognizable. Might want to smear some more of it on you." To show him, she grabbed a handful of the dust-dry soil and rubbed it into his hair, smoothing the residue left on her palms across his cheeks. When he spluttered and tried to worm away, she dug beneath the bush's roots and unearthed a few fingers-full of mud and splattered it on his nose. "Don't make the bush shake, Your Highness," she said. "We'll have you looking like an urchin in no time."

* * *

"In." The man who'd arrested Impa shoved her toward the first cell they came upon. "Wait here," he said brusquely. He had found her sitting on the floor of the kitchen, nibbling on an apple and hoping that Sheik would return from his pantry raid before the cooks and other kitchen workers woke up for the day. Before she could come up with an excuse, he had hauled her down to the dungeon to await whatever punishment the king would dole out to her.

There were three men in the cell already, sprawled along the floor and snoring. Each was twice her size and none of them looked friendly. She balked, digging her heels into the floor. "Aren't these separated by gender or something?" she asked. She hated to show weakness like this, but if they woke up and she was still there, she might be in trouble.

The guard shook his head. "These other ones are for higher-priority captives. Rapists, murderers. These men are just thieves." With an inward sigh, she allowed herself to be ushered into the cell, taking a seat in the corner farthest from where the men were sleeping. Luckily, the guard hadn't had the presence of mind to disarm her, perhaps because she was female. She rested a hand on her thigh, where a dagger was within easy reach. Though she didn't dare pull it out with the guard in the room, it made her feel better just to touch it through her pants.

One of the men rolled over in his sleep. Her breath whistling softly through her teeth, she leapt to her feet before realizing that he wasn't going after her.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Nabooru lifted her head up off her pillow. She sat up onto her elbows, looking around with confusion.

 _Whap_. A hand hit her square in the chest, shoving her back down again. The long pointed nose of the Healer looked down at her. It took a moment for Nabooru to focus on her brown eyes, which were dark with irritation. "Lay down. You have to rest," she said, returning to what had woken Nabooru up in the first place: removing the bandages around her foot and swabbing at the area with a wet cloth that smelled bitter and cloying.

Nabooru settled back down, glancing up at the Healer warily. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Unconscious? Five days."

" _What?_ " That was an impossibly long time, especially when she'd been training to join the Advanced class of archers; she'd been trapped in Intermediate for almost two years because she'd broken something in her shoulder, and just when that went away. . . . This was going to take her forever to make up.  _Krysu is going to beat me,_ she despaired. She managed to get herself halfway to a sitting position before the pain in her stomach overtook her and she collapsed back again.

"That's why I told you to lay down," the Healer said, finishing up on Nabooru's foot and pulling back the blankets so she could get at her stomach. The bandages had a slight yellow tint over where she'd been cut, and Nabooru cringed. That couldn't bode well. "It's just the Leever juice," the Healer told her. "It'll smell and stain your skin yellow, but as a disinfectant it can't be beat. There's a little honeymilk to soothe the pain, too."

It wasn't working very well. "Oh. Good. Not that I was worried, but that means I'll be able to get back out there and fight again soon."

"You will never hear me question your courage, Nabooru." With a small smile, she pulled the bandage away, making Nabooru hiss in pain as the dried blood and Leever juice stuck the fabric to the ragged edges of the cut. "It's not as bad as it could be," she said, "and you should gain eighty percent of your torso motility in only three months."

" _Months?_  You sure you don't mean weeks? Days? Minutes, maybe?"

The Healer glared at her. "I said months, and I meant months. And if you do something dumb before it's fully healed, you could more than double that time, so just stay there." As she slathered more Leever juice on Nabooru's ribs, the door to the chamber opened and Ganondorf poked his head in.

The Healer sighed. "You're back again? Listen, the girl is not dead —" Suddenly remembering who she was talking to, the woman dropped her eyes to the floor. "It's an honor to have you here, Your Highness."

"Thank you," he replied coolly, sitting down on the other side of Nabooru's cot and watching as the Healer continued her work. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

She bit her lip to contain a yelp as some of the juice ran down her ribcage and deep into the cut. She didn't want to show weakness in front of her king. "Great! I just want to get  _out_  of here, you know?"

"You're not going anywhere," the Healer warned yet again. She left the room and returned a minute later with a glass of water. "Drink this."

"I don't need that. Give —" Before she could continue, the Healer had clamped one strong hand under her chin, slipped two fingers into her mouth to keep it open (almost making Nabooru gag with the taste of Leever juice mixed with honeymilk), and dumped the water down her throat before she could react. Once she'd made sure that Nabooru wasn't going to cough any of it back up, she turned her heel and went off to tend some of the other patients.

Ganondorf watched her go. "She's good," he said appreciatively.

Nabooru rubbed her throat, clearing it to try and get the taste out of her mouth. "You can say that again. Though I think there was something weird on her fingers. I feel . . ." Covering her mouth, she bent over double, ignoring the agony that this sent through her newly-wrapped stomach. She didn't retch, though. It felt like something was filling her throat, like the water that she'd been forced to drink had frozen mid-swallow and was lodged there, growing larger and colder as every second passed.

When she began making strangled noises, Ganondorf pushed her back against the headboard, watching helplessly as she clawed at her throat. Just when her face began to turn purple, she felt the pain cease. Her throat grew warmer and more open as the ice melted, but just when she thought this meant she was going to be okay, her skin began to burn. Her face, her neck, chest, hands, stomach. . . . It was like an unbearable sunburn that got worse instead of better.

She managed to choke out the words, "I'm on fire!" before the heat overwhelmed her and she fell unconscious.

Ganondorf tried to take her hand and had to pull away from the heat of it; it was like the hilt of a scimitar that had been left in the sun. He shouted for the Healer and tried to pry Nabooru's eyes open, not sure what that would do to help but desperate to see them.

Her pupils were changing, dilating and contracting with increasing rapidity. The irises weren't their usual yellow. Instead, the right eye was red; the left, blue. She began crying, the tears from the right eye leaving burning red welts in their wake, while those from the left froze in their tracks.

The Healer rushed in as Nabooru's breathing weakened. She took only a few seconds to size up the situation and kicked Ganondorf out. He was too horrified to even begin arguing with her, knowing that his meager spells and healing knowledge would do nothing in the face of whatever gripped his trainer.

He made it to his bedroom before collapsing against the wall, shaking. There was rock over him, under him, around him . . . suddenly all that weight was suffocating. His skin was tingling like it did when Koume and Kotake used to work their spells, only stronger. It was  _crawling_ , simultaneously burning and chilled.

That was when it clicked.

He'd felt his mothers' magic before, though never in such close proximity. He knew that they preferred different elements. Koume loved fire, and Kotake used ice in almost all of her spells. The eyes, the tears . . . this had their stink all over it.

_"Any more attacks and you will be harshly punished."_

What was he going to do now?

* * *

"Daphnes, you can't honestly expect us to just waltz in there and demand the Zora's sacred stone — not to mention their engagement rock!" Over the course of their journey from the market to the Zora's Domain, Zelda had come up with a whole host of new things to complain about. It was getting annoying, mostly because she raised a lot of good points. Points that, as a future king of the Hylians, Daphnes should have thought of prior to leaving on this suicide journey.

Sometimes he wondered if he was an idiot who was only pretending at intelligence. "We are going to appeal to the prince, who you said was fond of you, and then see if his influence will be enough to help us get the stone from his father."

She raised her eyebrows. "And if not?"

 _We'll steal it._ "We shall devise another method," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His nerves were fraying, and they needed to get this over with before he snapped.

She seemed to realize that something was wrong. "Okay," she said, as soothingly as she was capable. "We'll figure it out."

As it turned out, they never made it to the king. It only took three sentences before Prince Zora shook his head. His expression was kind, but firm. "There is no way in which my father will give up the Sapphire. I'm sorry, Zelda, but it's too important to give even to the closest of friends." Daphnes had heard enough noble-speak to hear the second, unspoken half of that sentence:  _Let alone some girl I've known for less than a week._

Daphnes stepped forward. He had managed to clean himself up so he didn't look filthy, but he hadn't found any way to change out of his servant's garb; it made him feel rather shabby, even next to this naked prince. "But if we could explain —"

"Explain all you want. I am afraid that it will not be possible." Still, he couldn't dismiss one of his most powerful allies, so he listened with interest as Daphnes explained his theory of how to find the Triforce. Once he had finished, Zora's eyes were alight. "It is utter insanity, of course," he said, "but now that I think of it, there is something to this idea. . . . And you believe that you would be able to survive the Kokiri Forest?"

"We would have a distinct physical advantage to others. The men who have gone into the very entrance say that there is hardly any water to be found, and the rocks are coated in moss that might be poisonous." Daphnes knew that Zora would pick up on his noble-speak, as well:  _Zoras and Gorons would be more likely to die if they tried. And since I'm the king of the Hylians, I'm the only choice you have._

Unless, of course, Zora chose to have him and Zelda arrested. There was always that option.

"I'm afraid that I do not have the authority to help you," Zora said. And Daphnes believed him; if there was a way that the young prince could give them the stone without facing the wrath of the king, he would, for curiosity if nothing else. But it wasn't a risk he was willing to take. "I — Zelda, are you all right?"

Zelda had gone white, her eyes closed and her body stiff and unresponsive to Daphnes' hand on her shoulder, or Zora's fingers brushing against hers. They exchanged worried glances, but could do no more before her eyes opened.

For a second Daphnes thought he had lost his sight. He thought,  _It's not black at all. Everything turns white when you're blind. And a little blue . . ._

Once his eyes had adjusted, he realized that the brilliant light was coming from Zelda's eyes. The entire ball was a white-blue — she had no iris, no pupil, nothing but light. Daphnes staggered out of the way, torn between amazement and a horror that left him paralyzed and helpless.

"Her  _hand_  . . ." Prince Zora choked, then let out a scream of pain. The hand whose fingers he'd been touching had tightened into a fist, crushing Zora's index and middle fingers in its grip. It was glowing the same blue color, only concentrated into a triangle with one-inch sides.

"Zelda!" Daphnes shouted. He fell to his knees next to Zora, trying to pull his hand free. "STOP IT!"

As though his words had been a command, the light drained out of the room. Her hand loosened, letting the Zora free to cradle his hand against his chest. Inspecting the fingers, Daphnes was relieved to find that they weren't broken.

"W-what happened?" she asked. Her eyes had gone back to normal, but she looked dazed. "Prince Zora, are you okay?"

He nodded. Daphnes had been worried that he would hate them for this, run them out of the Domain, but his expression was one of awe.  _Zel, when I said you were a goddess, I was_ joking, he thought weakly. "Your eyes were glowing," he whispered. "And your hand."

Zelda looked down at the appendage in question, her head light and fuzzy. She stared at the little golden mark etched into the back of her hand and touched it gently, feeling its warmth. One word popped into her head, completely unbidden:  _Wisdom_. Remembering Dimitri, and the triangle on his hand, Zelda ran her fingers over the mark. The second she did, it disappeared.

 _His eyes had changed color, and he'd acted different. Weird. Scary._ Zelda had refused to let herself think about Demi. Or the thing that he'd called the Dark Triforce. Or anything about her home. But now she dwelled on it.

When he had reached his hand forward to take hers, she'd seen the black triangle etched into his skin. So he'd had the triangle, and she had the triangle. Different colors, but same general shape and eye change. And that meant that she would end up like him.

But it had disappeared. So it had left her . . . right? And if it hadn't, what had happened? Had it decided she was unworthy? Or . . . or . . . What was she thinking? She didn't know what had happened to Demi. For all she knew, he had just become a jerk and that triangle had meant nothing.

_You know better than that, Zelda. You know that this is true._

Prince Zora held her by the shoulders gently. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head to clear it. "Yeah," she replied. "I think."

And she was. Her mind was still not quite clear, and she didn't feel entirely steady on her feet, but other than that, she seemed perfectly normal. The only problem she could think of was that there was a voice in her head that wasn't hers. And it had told her that Demi was controlled by this Dark Triforce.

She turned turned Daphnes, hoping that he could help her make sense of this stranger in her mind, the one that was gone as soon as she had shaken her head. But in all the confusion, he had disappeared.

* * *

Danile was known around Kakariko Village as the cuccoo girl. She was quiet, gentle, and amazing with the birds that populated their small town. She would take care of the cuccoos for a fee, raise them, breed them, and give the families whatever eggs and — once the birds died — meat that was produced.

She knelt down, checking the tag around a dead cuccoo's leg. It was green. "The Farlinsons are going to have a decent meal tonight," she said, picking the white bird up by its tagged leg and making her way across the keep. When she reached the gate, she reached forward with one boot and lifted the latch that was low enough to maneuver with her foot. Danile only had one arm. She was just lucky the birds were too stupid to open the latch by themselves. She'd only had them escape once, and that was an accident.

Suddenly her vision went white. At the corners of the field of light were hints of bright green.

 _Courage, Danile._  She felt a hand press against her stomach, the way she'd seen women touch the bulging bellies of pregnant ladies, and a bolt of warmth shot through her. The voice, vaguely female and ageless, said,  _Courage_ , yet again.

When the light faded, she was standing at the gate, which had swung open. Cuccoos were racing everywhere, and the one that had been in her hand was shaking with the trembling that was coursing through her arm. She looked around; it was almost sunset, and the town was deserted as everyone prepared for dinner and relaxed from a long day of work. No one had seen her breakdown, but they were now emerging at the clucking of cuccoos. "What happened, Danile?" her neighbor, Rex, called.

"I tripped," she shouted back, still trying to think clearly after what had happened. She turned back to her house and yelled, "BRIN! I NEED YOU!"

Her husband came sprinting outside. He ignored the cuccoos that were being chased down by various families who had investments in the birds. "Danile, are you okay?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she said, her voice higher than usual. That was when she noticed the triangle glowing yellow on her hand. Brin held his hand out and showed her his fist, where an identical one glimmered among wiry strands of black hair.

Before either of them could speak, both triangles disappeared.


	10. Love and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Zelda isn't in love with Daphnes, but she realizes that she could be. Nabooru gets a gift from an anonymous benefactor.

"Nabooru!"

She lifted her head off the pillow and looked around for the noise. She yelped and leapt back, a movement that would have caused her unspeakable pain only a few days ago but left her perfectly fine now.

On the end of the bed, their faces inches from hers, were her friends, Krysu, Jessa, Tami, and Amalyse.

"What are you guys  _doing_ here?" Nabooru demanded, settling back down onto the bed and glaring at them. They just laughed, unaware of how damaging their little joke would have been when she was first hospitalized.

"We're here to visit you. Be supportive, et cetera," Jessa explained. "And to give you this." She dropped a package in her lap. Nabooru grunted at the sudden weight, barely catching it before it slid off the sheets and onto the floor.

Inside the thin parchment were two beautiful scimitars. The hilt of one was lined with sapphires and diamonds, while the other was covered in rubies and topaz stones. "How on earth did you find these?" she asked, running a thumb down the steel blade of the sapphire one. "Is there some really angry Ryian merchant who'll be out for your blood?"

Tami shrugged, admiring the gold hilt of the ruby sword. "It's the weirdest thing. We didn't steal these."

Her forehead wrinkled, concern flitting across her mind. "Who did?"

"We have no idea," Amalyse said. "There was this girl who handed Krysu the package and told her to give it to you. Know anyone like that? Maybe a mutt or something?"

"Of course not." Nabooru knew that this ought to be reported to Aveni, or perhaps Lenea. These were exactly the kind of bizarre windfall that they were taught to be distrustful of. Every instinct she had told her that they should never accept gifts from strangers, especially if that gift was food or a weapon. But before she could think about that in any detail, she would be distracted by the wickedly sharp blades, or the way the gems glimmered, or the perfect grips of each. They seemed fit to the bumps and curves of her palms, to the point where she knew that the ruby one was for her right hand, and the sapphire her left.

The other girls were just as dazzled by the weapons, each one reaching forward to touch part of it every few seconds. "So how do you feel?" Krysu asked. "Healed yet?"

Nabooru said, "Actually, yeah. The stab wound is gone, but the Healer won't let me leave. That magic really freaked her out."

The girls had heard about that; everyone had. Tami's fingers brushed against the golden hilt. "I didn't know gold could get this smooth," she said. "It makes you want to fight with them, doesn't it?" The others burst into a clamor of agreement, each eager to see the swords in action.

Nabooru thought once again about her orders, her instincts, her health. Then she tightened her grip around the hilts of the scimitars and climbed out of bed, leading her friends out to the most isolated fighting space in the Fortress. They were falling into formation when a shadow moved just outside of Nabooru's vision. She whirled around, raising her scimitar, and almost hit a stunned Ganondorf in the head with the flat of her blade. "Ganondorf!" she cried. "What are you doing here?"

The other girls had dropped to their knees. Nabooru inclined her head, but didn't want to set the swords down long enough to bow properly.

"I was taking a walk," he said, "and happened to see you." He took her by the elbow and drew her away, his expression darkening. "What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe that the Healer let me go?"

Ganondorf sighed, giving her an incredulous look. Then he noticed the scimitars. "Where did you get these?"

"Some girl gave them to me. Cool, huh? I wish I could thank her."

"I bet I can," he muttered. For some reason he didn't seem nearly as impressed by them as her friends had been.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just be careful." He turned and disappeared into the night without so much as a goodbye, leaving Nabooru to return to her friends . . . who weren't there.  _They must have gone to bed_ , she assumed. "Rude of them not to say goodbye," she muttered, but was distracted from her irritation by the brightness of the swords. She grinned, turning around so that the moon was shining directly on them. For some reason, the blades didn't seem as bright as before, which was enough to make her hesitate. However, she couldn't quite bring herself to part with them, and Aveni would insist that they be taken away. They might even be destroyed.

Ganondorf would know what to do. At least, he should. He was her king, after all. If she had to guess as to where he was going . . .

As Nabooru turned toward the west, the swords grew brighter again.  _Magic,_ she thought, knowing that this meant she should give them up; she had no excuse to keep them anymore. Unless, of course, they were leading her to Ganondorf, in which case they were made of  _good_  magic.

The Gerudo didn't know the difference between good and bad magic. They wouldn't be able to appreciate her gifts.

That settled, she began to follow the glow of the swords, hoping they would lead her to Ganondorf.

* * *

Ganondorf was sitting on a rock outside the sphere of Koume and Kotake's influence. Or, at least, what he had always assumed was their sphere of influence. Now that they had unleashed those swords into the world, who knew how far their magic could spread?

He should have taken them away as soon as he saw them. But there was always the chance that he could fall under their thrall; he had wanted to, after watching them glisten in the moonlight. It was better if he stayed as far away from them as possible.

He was surprised as something bright and silver appeared in the corner of his vision. "I found you!" Nabooru said, her face white under the glow of the swords. "I knew they would lead me to —  _ahhh!_ " She dropped the swords, blinking. "They got hot all of a sudden. That's weird." She paused for a second, then shrugged and knelt to pick them up again.

Ganondorf knew that this was the effect of his mothers' spell, and that Nabooru wasn't really this stupid. Still, he couldn't help but feel a stab of frustration as he tried to pull her away from the scimitars. He was too late, though.

Once her fingers closed around the jeweled hilts, she was hit with a burst of heat that seared up her right hand, leaving burns that made the healing welts on her right cheek look and feel as inconsequential as acne. Her left arm was freezing, to the point where she felt nothing but agonizing tingles from that arm, and her hand felt as far away as the Gerudo Fortress. Her back arched as she screamed, unaware of anything but blistering cold and frigid heat, mixing together in a pain that couldn't tell one sensation from the other.

 _"This isn't going to work with Ganondorf here!"_  Nabooru didn't know whether the voice was in her mind or in the air, and the words meant nothing to her weakened brain.

" _Be quiet! As long as she holds the swords she can hear us!"_ The pain lessened to a point where she could make sense of the voices. Gibberish slowly morphed into language, and she heard, _"We are setting you free for now. But you need to return to us tomorrow night. If not, we will come get you. You cannot tell anyone."_ Something about the woman's voice was comforting, though at the same time threatening. She nodded.

The burning pain disappeared, as did the voice and the light. She fell into Ganondorf's arms, which were held out in preparation for this very event.

They weren't prepared for her to fall straight forward, though. As he lunged forward to snatch her out of the air, he lost his balance and sent them both sprawling. They toppled down the dune, landing on the sand below. He landed flat on his back, and she crashed down on top of him. Their legs were tangled together. Her nose was touching his. They stared at each other.

Nabooru admired his long red hair, his tiny bit of stubble, the tiny gold-and-orange earring, and his dark orange eyes. She'd always been bad at reading faces, and his was especially inscrutable. It annoyed her to no end.

Ganondorf looked at her long eyelashes, framing golden-yellow eyes, her hair that fell around his face, and the spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. The welts on her face had healed, as had the ones on her arm, but he wasn't really noticing that. He was thinking that her face was one that expressed extreme emotions, whether happy or sad. She wasn't one for mild reactions, and it was exhausting.

She gazed down at him. For once she wasn't laughing. "You're obnoxious," she said.

"You're worse."

She laughed at that, then gave him a hesitant kiss on the lips, pulling away almost as soon as she'd made contact. For once, they were both shy. "I-I've never . . . There aren't any guys at the Fortress," she finally said.

"There weren't any girls with Koume and Kotake," he replied, which seemed to give her courage. The second kiss was a lot longer than the first, though equally tame. After a few moments, she climbed to her feet.

"It's been a weird night," Nabooru said. "I shouldn't have done that. I just . . ." Her jaw set, and any traces of shyness — what they were both trained to call weakness — fled from her face. "I just lost my focus for a moment," she finished coolly. "It won't happen again, Your Highness."

* * *

Daphnes sat on the edge of Lord Jabu-Jabu's pool. He knew that at his age he shouldn't have run away, considering what had just happened. But considering what had just happened . . . how could he  _not_  run away?

"Wisdom," he whispered, his bare feet kicking at the shallow water. He hadn't had any glowing eyes, any out-of-body experiences. Just Wisdom.

Of course, if he actually  _had_  any wisdom, he would have known what this all meant.

"Daph!" He heard splashing behind him as Zelda squished her way over to him. He looked first at the dripping hem of her dress, then up at her face. She grinned. "I almost fell in one of the pools," she said, "but Trent caught me." She shook one foot, sending water droplets over their admittedly-unimpressive garb. She plopped down next to him, her smile fading. "So what happened?"

He clutched his right hand to his chest, not sure how to say it. "Zelda, when you . . . did whatever you did, I was mostly trying to figure out what was going on. But after it was over, and there was the triangle on your hand . . . I had one, too."

For a moment she just stared at him. " _You_  had a golden triangle?" she demanded. He nodded, and she turned pale. "What does that mean?" When he had no answer for him, she said it again, louder. " _What does it mean, Daphnes?_ "

"I don't know!" he cried. "I didn't change or anything, I didn't glow. All I heard was a voice that said, 'Wisdom'! I have no idea what that means!"

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Not again. This isn't happening again."

"Zelda, what are you talking about?" When she didn't answer, just kept staring at him with her wide blue eyes, he reached out and gently touched her wrist. "Listen, this is all very odd, but I believe that was the Triforce. I do not know what it means, but perhaps our journey is being blessed by the goddesses. Maybe Nayru; she is the goddess of wisdom, after all." Yeah, that made sense.

Zelda still didn't look fully convinced, but at least that horrified expression was off her face. "Maybe," she conceded. "But Prince Zora was there, too. Why didn't he feel it?" Her gaze landed on him, her eyes narrowing. "What makes us special?"

Normally, Daphnes was very good at not saying what he felt, even to himself. However, the events of the last hour had left him quite shaken, and he blurted out, "You mean you do not feel it? Deep inside, anywhere?"

To that she had nothing but silence. Then, before he could stop her, she leapt to her feet and sprinted away, leaving him staring after her, baffled.

 _That_  wasn't supposed to happen. He took off after her, slipping on the wet stone and kicking up water behind him.

* * *

Prince Zora leaned back against the wall, talking to Trent and keeping an eye out for Zelda. She'd told him that she would be fine looking for Daphnes on her own, but she was rather wild and impulsive. That, combined with whatever had happened . . . He was still trembling slightly.

Trent was explaining how he'd lost yet another girlfriend. "So she was all like, 'I thought you loved me, I thought you were sensitive, I thought you wanted _millions of Zora children_!' And I . . . panicked. And she pushed me off the waterfall. Man, it really hurts if you land in the water on your back like that. Especially if there's a Zora under you. Are all girls this weird? Like, are Sheikah girls and Hylian girls this crazy?"

"Absolutely," Prince Zora mumbled, not paying attention. Trent rolled his eyes. Prince Zora missed it though, since he was looking out for Zelda. He waved his hand, to tell Trent to continue.

"And then I blew flaming cuccos out of my butt . . ."

" _What?_ " Prince Zora whirled around once the words had penetrated.

"You weren't listening."

He nodded, smiling apologetically. "I'm looking for Zelda."

Trent looked at him, disgusted. "You  _like_  this girl?"

"No! Heavens, no." He shook his head vehemently. She had  _hair_ , for one thing. And her — all Hylians, in fact — skin was such an unnatural pink color. It was just that she was something special, touched by the goddesses. He needed to figure out what was going on, and what he was going to do about it.

"Then what's the problem?"

At that moment, a door was thrown open and Zelda raced past, her eyes wild and desperate. A second later Daphnes sprinted out after Zelda, calling her name and stumbling over his own feet.

Prince Zora sighed, climbing to his feet. "That is the problem, Trent. Now, if you will catch one or both of them, I need to go get an important item."

* * *

" _Psst. Imp._ " Impa was laying on the hard stone floor in the corner of her cell. The other men had snored the entire day, but she was too uncomfortable to sleep.

She raised her head. "What?" she hissed, knowing immediately who it was.

"Get over here!"

She crawled over to the bars, following Sheik's voice. "Where are you?" He dropped to the floor. Impa scrambled back instinctively, though they still had the iron between them. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Rescuing you." He was safe, because the guards were stationed outside the entrance to the dungeons but not within, and somehow he had sneaked past them. Furthermore, they were out of view of the other cells, so none of the other prisoners could rat them out.

"Really." She had seen Sheik's attempts at plans: rescue plans, heist plans, plans of every fashion. None of them worked.

"Yeah. See?" He took out a long knife and began sawing at the bars. After a few fruitless minutes, he gave up. "How about using keys?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me." Sheik grabbed the keys and opened the door. Impa stepped out, and they turned to leave. "Wait!"

"What?" he asked, turning around.

"The door."

They'd left the door wide open, the keys dangling from it.

"Oops." He was halfway back when his arm hit the suit of armor. It crashed to the floor with a deafening clatter. " _Din_!" Sheik cried when he realized what he'd done. He bent down to pick it up, and his foot hit another suit. It smashed into another. Like dominos, all the way down the hall, suits of armor banged into each other, making a racket that probably woke up the entire castle. When the noise had died down, there was a ringing in their ears that was almost as loud as the falling metal. "Who has goddess-damned  _armor_  in their dungeon?" he snarled. "Let alone positioned in such a precarious position?"

"Smart people," Impa replied. "It worked better than the guards, didn't it?"

The prisoners had woken up, and were making their way to the entrance of the cell. The largest, a man with a bushy black beard and dark skin, looked down at Sheik and Impa, both of whom felt very tiny in comparison. "You two let us out?" he asked. They nodded, and he reached around them to grab three long knives, which Impa assumed had once been their property before being confiscated.

The second prisoner ran a thumb along his blade, sizing them up. "And then you made all that noise that could get us killed?"

This time, they both hesitated before nodding their agreement. Both of them shifted into positions of attack.

"Well, then," the first one said, "you kids better be ready to fight, because the three of us aren't going to be able to take on all these guards by ourselves."

"What's going on here?" They all stared at the guard who had entered the dungeon behind them. Peering over his shoulder were at least six others. The three burly prisoners beamed toothlessly and prepared to battle.

Sheik's plans  _never_  went well.

* * *

Zelda finally stopped running when she couldn't hear Daphnes calling after her anymore. Years of chasing hyperactive children had put her in far better shape to outrace the prince, but she almost wished that she hadn't. He was far too kind to be abandoned like that, especially seeing as he was her sovereign.

But at the same time . . . he had heard voices. He had the triangle. He felt  _something_ , deep down, that said they were different. Connected, somehow. That was not something she'd ever expected him to say, which meant he was acting differently. Just like Dimitri. Even if he was right, and they were touched by the Triforce or the goddesses or something that wasn't evil, it was just too bizarre.

She sat down outside the Domain, plopping down by the river and putting her head in her hands. Could the goddesses throw someone normal into her path? Someone who wasn't the plaything of supernatural forces?

"Zelda!" He'd finally caught up. Though he was thin enough, it took him a few minutes before he could catch enough breath to speak. For the first time, she noticed that his eyes were tired and worried, and there seemed to constantly be a little frown line creasing his brow. Feeling a rush of pity, Zelda patted the ground next to her. He collapsed gratefully. "So what happened?" he asked, mimicking their exchange in Jabu-Jabu's lair.

"This is too much," she replied. "Nayru, the Triforce, Hyrule . . . Everything's changing so fast, and I don't know what I'm doing. And I don't know what things you're feeling deep inside, but I'm not comfortable with it."

"I understand." His neck and ears flushed pink, and he stared down at his knees.

But she felt that he needed more of an explanation than that. "I've met people who've felt things before," she said, "and those things turned this guy into a huge asshole."

His eyes widened and he met her gaze. "But I would never do that! I —"

Zelda sighed. "It's just that once the deities start getting into people's minds, things don't end well."

He froze. "What on earth are you talking about? I meant that . . . I meant something completely different."

"What, then?"

Daphnes ran a hand through his blond hair, stalling for time. "All I meant is that we were supposed to meet, I believe. My life has been thrown into disarray because of you, and that was not chance. If I had ever thought that it was, this Triforce experience has changed my mind. The only question that remains to be answered is why."

This wasn't what she had thought, but there was something in his tone that made her nervous. "Do you think you know the answer?"

"Perhaps." He was studying her, his gray eyes dark with some emotion she couldn't read. Before she could ask him again, he climbed to his feet, taking her hands and pulling her up with him. For a moment they just stood there, looking down at their interlocked hands. When she lifted her head to read his expression, he leaned forward and kissed her. It wasn't perfect; his lips were dry and rough, and he clearly wasn't sure what to do with his tongue. However, it was her first kiss, and he was so unbelievably warm compared to the night air that she wanted nothing more than to huddle into his arms. Besides, as far as guys went, Daphnes was a pretty good one to have want her. Better than —

Suddenly an image of Demi, his eyes filled with sadness and confusion, flashed into her mind. She pulled back, her heart hammering loud enough to make her head hurt. "No."

"No?" He wrinkled his brow. "I am terribly sorry if I have offended you, Zelda. M-Miss Zelda."

"It's too fast. I mean, the whole Dark Triforce, and Demi, and . . ." She realized she hadn't told him about that, and the idea of explaining her messed-up life to this undeserving prince was too much for her to handle. "I need to go."

"Wait. Zel —"

She took a step back, then another, then she was sprinting in the direction of Hyrule Castle. She kept thinking of Dimitri, and how she'd always sworn to herself that she loved him. She had, even when she'd considered him nothing more than a stuck-up, lazy jerk. She'd lay on the beach, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. She recalled with a pang of regret that she never would know.

But Daphnes was different. She liked him, too. He was funny, smart, sweet, and he honestly cared about her. She was never sure Demi had. She thought of him, always there for her, even though he had a castle, a kingdom, and no reason to be nice to her. He'd always been understanding, without really understanding what was wrong with her. He always tried.

Then again, she'd hurt Demi too. And he was all alone . . . and it was her fault. Maybe if she'd stayed, she could have helped him.

Daphnes had to deal with a war, and his father dying (he never said anything, but Zelda could tell, over the few weeks they'd spent together, that he was worried) . . .

Demi was so cute and funny. They'd known each other forever.

When Daphnes was about to kiss her, she'd wanted him to, even though she could have sworn that she'd never want that ever again.

She was torn between guilt over what she'd done to Demi, and guilt over what she could do to Daphnes. Happiness that she'd once had and lost, and an older, less innocent happiness that was still within her grasp.

It was all so confusing.

She had to talk to Impa.


	11. Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impa, Sheik, and Zelda find a way out of the castle thanks to an odd old friend, and Demi washes up closer to his goal than he'd ever imagined.

Sneaking back into the castle was just as easy as sneaking out of it. Had Zelda been feeling less conflicted, she would have made a note to remind Daphnes once again about how poorly protected he and his family were. But then again, thinking of Daphnes made her brain hurt, so she pushed the thought out of her mind. The sprint to the castle had made her look even more like a sweaty, overworked maid, and she was able to find out that several prisoners had escaped from the dungeons without being recognized.

She hadn't known Impa and Sheik all that long, but she suspected that this was their doing.

A guard snatched her arm as she tried to sneak past him into the dungeons. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "That's no place for a girl."

"I —" She didn't know what to say; what  _was_  she doing down there? Before she could come up with an acceptable excuse, the man gurgled and staggered forward. He coughed, and blood splattered the front of her dress. She managed a shrill grasp and staggered back up the stairs, allowing him to collapse onto them in front of her.

"Zelda? Why're you here?" Impa's face was shiny with sweat, but she seemed casual enough as she yanked her dagger out of the slit between the guard's armor and helmet.

"You . . . you killed him. And it was my fault." She couldn't quite comprehend what was happening. People didn't die on Piquo, or if they did, it was of old age or alcohol poisoning behind closed doors, or they were swept up on the shore, skin waxy and bloated. They didn't  _bleed_ , and they weren't murdered sober. "If he hadn't been talking to me . . ."

Impa glanced over her shoulder, and once she was assured that they hadn't caught any of the guards' eyes, she held out her hand. "Come on, we have to get out of here. I won't let anyone get you, I promise."

Zelda's eyes widened. "You have blood under your fingernails," she said faintly.

"Oh, for the . . . He was going to kill both of us. It's not bad if it's self-defense." She snatched Zelda's wrist and dragged her into the dungeon. Her hand was cold and sticky with blood, and Zelda couldn't breathe with the stench of death in the stuffy air. For a moment, she thought she was going to be ill. "Sheik?" Impa cried, standing on her tiptoes and peering around the battling men around her.

Suddenly a hand, far larger and stronger than Impa's, closed around Zelda's other wrist, hauling her out of her friend's grasp. She screamed, thrashing like a fish on a hook. Whirling around to face her attacker with her other arm raised in a fist, she saw a large guard with black curls springing beneath his helm. For an insane moment she saw Demi, and before she could stop it her arm shot out, her hand half-clenched. By pure luck, her second knuckles grazed the top edge of the man's visor, slicing through the skin on her first two fingers and bending them just enough that they slipped through the thin crack. Her fingers met resistance for a second before they pushed through it, surrounded in wet, gooey warmth. Her second shriek was louder than the first, and she nearly broke her fingers trying to free them. This poor guard who had had the misfortune of looking like Dimitri dropped to his knees, wailing and clawing at his visor.

She stared at her fingers, which were coated in blood and something she was afraid was eyeball.

"Zelda!" Impa regained her grasp on her wrist and continued dragging her away. "It's not that I'm not impressed," she huffed, stepping over bodies that Zelda hoped were only unconscious, "but I need you to focus  _right now._ "

"I . . ." She shook her head and wiped her hand on her skirt, pushing aside her terror. Impa was right, and she didn't want to die. "Tell me where to go."

"Good girl," Impa said. "Follow me." Somehow they made it out of the main area of the dungeons and down the long row of cells, weaving around the hands that stretched out from between the bars pleadingly.

"Got the keys, girls?"

"Quick, while they're distracted!"

"You have to let me out, I've been here for months . . ."

Sheik was waiting at the end of the hallway. Leaning up against the wall in his black-and-navy-blue uniform, he was almost invisible. He peered over their shoulders. "Still distracted," he reported, turning and disappearing down another corridor.

"Thank the goddesses," Impa muttered, following him into the shadows as more voices cried out from behind them.

"Don't leave!"

"You can still get the keys!"

"GUARDS! Prisoners escaping! And I told you first, don't let anyone forget —"

"Please tell me you have a plan," Impa said over the noise.

"I've found a way out." He pulled open a door and slipped inside. The sound of guards fighting and the desperate shrieks of the inmates were immediately cut off. They were in a long, wet hallway. The floor extended for maybe five feet before dropping off into a ditch half-full of muddy water. It had to be at least twenty feet down, and aside from the platform they were on, there was only about a foot or two of floor on either side of the ditch. The water was moving at a pretty fast pace. "Gutters," he explained, rubbing his chin. "They catch the rainwater and send it out to the fields behind the castle." He shrugged. "Must be raining."

"Great," Impa said.

"How did you find it?" Zelda knew Sheik well enough to be wary. Pink had finally returned to her cheeks, though she couldn't stop rubbing at her fingers like the blood was still on them.

"Slipped away during the fighting. Wandered around for a little bit before coming back." He paused, looking her up and down. "When did you get here? And what's with . . ." He gestured to his chest; when she glanced down, she saw the crimson stain from when the guard had spit blood on her.

Impa sighed. "Don't worry, Zel," she said. "It's an occupational hazard as a guard. He was probably ready to go." Turning to Sheik, she added, "I have no idea where she came from. She was just standing behind this guy I stabbed. Blinded someone, though."

Sheik's eyebrows shot up. "No kidding?"

"I-it was an accident," Zelda said weakly. "He looked like . . . oh, and I left Daphnes in Zora's Domain. I . . . just had to leave." Tears filled her eyes as she realized exactly what had happened in the few hours she'd been awake.

"Ho, boy. I'm not good with this girly stuff." Impa patted her hand awkwardly. "We'll talk about this later, okay?" That settled, she turned back to Sheik. "So where are we going?"

"Remember Ryad?" They made their way to the end of the shadowy hall, having to shuffle around the ditch with their backs pressed against the wall. At the end there was a wooden ladder bolted to the wall, water running down it from the rain like a dirty waterfall. Sheik stepped aside, holding out his arm so that they could climb up before him. Zelda started to before Impa snatched her arm, hauling her forcibly to the ground and leaving red finger-marks around her wrist.

"Nuh-uh."

He stared at her, eyes wide. "You don't remember him? I thought you were in the same Coding class, weren't you?"

"That's not what I meant.  _You're_  going up first." As he passed, his expression still one of innocence and bewilderment (phony, of course), she smacked the back of his head, watching with amusement as his hair rose in a blonde puff. "Pig."

"I find that offensive," he said over his shoulder, climbing the ladder. Impa let Zelda go up next, double-checking to make sure no one else was coming. They were still clear; those prisoners were really giving the guards a run for their money. They would end up dying, of course, but it was almost a shame. "Anyway, I was here like a month or so ago, and it turns out he lives in town now. So I thought we'd stop by, say hello, get safe passage out of here. You know, friend stuff."

"Of course." At the top of the ladder was a circular grate. He tilted his head back, squinting to keep the rain out of his eyes, and pushed up at the grate. Luckily various guards and servants used this enough that it lifted easily, and he climbed out onto the edge of town. "Be careful," he called down, holding out a rain-slick hand to Zelda. "The streets tilt so you're getting all the water running down here."

Impa followed, appreciating the warmth of his hand on hers. "Seems like bad planning to put an exit so close to the dungeons," she said.

"I broke the lock. It was a pretty big one. Besides, I almost fell into the gutter the first time I went in there. I think a prisoner running too fast would find himself swept away before he could get out safely." He replaced the grate and stepped under an awning, wringing the water out of his long hair.

"Hey, look who it is." All three whirled around at the voice. There were two people, Zelda could tell. One was short and stocky, with broad shoulders and a warm, open face. Brown hair flopped over one eye, and he was dressed in normal market clothes; if it weren't for his red eyes and slightly tan skin, no one would know he was a Sheikah. The other was in the shadows.

"Ryad?" Sheik shook his head to try and get the water out of his face. "We were just about to go find you. What're you doing here?"

Ryad shrugged. "Jaysia wanted to go for a walk. Weird coincidence, isn't it?"

Zelda felt Impa tense up beside her. "Yeah, it's weird," she said. "Hi, Jaysia."

Ryad held out his hand, and the girl stepped into the dim light. Jaysia was beautiful, with long blue hair flowing down her back and swaying around her hips. Her eyes were a blue so pale that they bordered on gray, and her skin was almost white. She stared at them, her eyes narrowed into thin slits, her gaze lingering on Zelda. After a moment, though, she smiled, holding up a delicate hand to shield her face.  _It was just the rain,_ Zelda told herself. The only thing that was unsettling about her were those eyes. Blue hair wasn't  _that_  strange, not compared to Impa's, but she had never seen eyes that pale.

Jaysia smiled. "You're wondering about my eyes," she said softly. "How I can be a Sheikah with these eyes."

Ryad, Sheik, and Impa had all looked away, clearly uncomfortable. Zelda shrugged, feeling pinned by her gaze. "No, I . . . they're very pretty."

"I am a bastard. My father was from the northern isles. Fotmea."

And  _now_  she understood why they were uncomfortable. "Oh."

Jaysia turned her alarming gaze to Impa and Sheik. "Hello, friends," she said. Her voice was oddly stilted and formal, like she was an old woman rather than a teenager. In fact, she sound a little like Daphnes, but without the nervous charm. "It has been a while."

Impa nodded. Sheik smiled, though it didn't look very natural to Zelda. "Hey, Jay. How've you guys —"

Ryad had knelt down, examining the grate from which they'd emerged. "You had to sneak out of the castle," he said, "and I'm hearing voices from down there."

Sheik's face paled, the weak smile disappearing. "Maybe we should get back to your place," he said hastily.

Jaysia shook her head, her hair accidentally hitting both Zelda and Impa's faces. "I do not think that would be a good idea. What if the guards search the town?" She twirled a strand of her hair nervously, coiling it around her finger like a spindle of blue thread. "I think you should go over the drawbridge and get out tonight."

A hint of humor came back to Sheik's face; he even managed a chuckle as his eyes met Impa's. "To the roofs again, Imp."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Great. I  _love_  the roofs." She took Zelda's wrist, in case she would try to run. "Don't worry, Zel, these are low. You'll be fine." She led them toward the drawbridge, which they would climb over.

Jaysia fell into step beside her. "You are frightened of heights?" she asked.

Zelda nodded. "Though compared to the rest of today, this is nothing."

Jaysia stared at her, her pale eyes almost seeming to glow in the predawn light. "It is quite fortunate we came along, is it not?"

"Yeah, I guess. I can't believe you were walking around at this time, though. And in the rain."

For the first time, a shadow of a smile hinted at her lips. "I do not know what to say. Sometimes coincidences occur."

"That's true."  _But it's still_ really _weird,_ she thought, hoping that Jaysia couldn't read the suspicion on her face.

From the way she narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together, however, Zelda had the sinking feeling that she could.

* * *

There was nothing but blackness. Dimitri knew that that wasn't good, that there was supposed to be light, that he could be blind or dead or both, but there was something warm about this blackness, comforting.

 _Up._ The sound cut through the dark haze, with it a burst of light that seared like a brand. He cringed around himself, trying to ignore the voice. "No," he mumbled, though his tongue was a heavy, dry slab of meat on the floor of his mouth, and speaking hurt.

 _Yes. Get up now._  Again the pain filled his head, the words creating a fissure in his skull from which light poured through, banishing the soft darkness to the very edges of his vision.

"Over here." Once his eyes had adjusted to being open for the first time in what felt like a thousand days, they registered a large, bright room that he had never seen before. His gaze then lighted on the other occupant of the room. She was an elegant old woman with silver hair that was twisted into a complicated bun. Her eyes were gentle and warm, and she spoke quietly, as if she knew just how much he hurt. "What do you need?" she asked, moving from her chair across the room to sit on the edge of the bed that he was lying in.

Din, he hadn't realized how desperately he'd wanted to hear those words until they'd been spoken. "Water," he managed to croak, feeling like each word was clawing gashes into the back of his throat. His head was pounding.

She gestured to the table next to him, and with great effort he picked up the glass that was placed in the center. There were beads of condensation along the edges, and he almost fought back a moan. No one had ever wanted anything so badly as he wanted this water. As he gulped it down as fast as he possibly could, she added, "Where did you come from?"

"Piquo. But my boat . . ." He tried to remember, but couldn't. "Crashed."

"You are near Hyrule, on the island of Gish. We found you washed up on the shore outside only two days ago." She gestured in the general direction of the ocean. "The town doctor has been in to see you, and he says that, aside from extreme dehydration, you are unharmed. He said that you are allowed to move about the house, but not to wander." Her comforting smile warmed into one of genuine amusement as she said, "And, of course, to drink plenty of water. What is your name, by the way?"

"Dimitri," he said. There was no more water in the cup, so he licked at the condensation around the outside, not caring how he must have looked. "Could I?" he asked, holding out the glass.

"I'll get you more. If you feel well enough to stand, please have a look around." She smiled, running her hand along the nearest wall. "This used to be my eldest daughter's bedroom, but you don't have to worry about that." Her lips tightened for a second, the movement almost like a spasm. "You can call me Adela," she said curtly. "In a moment, Dimitri. Please enjoy the room."

Once she was gone, he let himself fall back against the pillows. His throat and mouth were no longer crying in agony, and he was able to appreciate the first comfort since he'd left Piquo.

It was short-lived comfort, as several days without using the bathroom took their toll. His limbs were shaking the effort to stand, but he made it to the door with only a few stumbles. As he reached for the handle, however, it swung open, revealing a small woman whose nose was about at level with his nipples. She stared up at him with red eyes ringed in black ashes (a very popular style on Piquo), her mouth hanging open to reveal slightly-bucked front teeth. "You're up," she said, surprised. "She didn't say you'd be up."

He nodded. "My name is Demi. Um, if you could —"

"She said you'd want the bathroom. I'm supposed to show you. Come on." Once he was finished, she led him back to his room in silence, opening the bedroom door for him and turning to leave.

"Wait," he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. As his hand brushed her skin, she jerked out of the way; he overbalanced and almost fell over before catching himself on the wall.

"Don't touch me," she snarled, her expression suddenly hostile. Strands of short black hair fell into her eyes, but she glared through them at him.

"I-I don't know what I did to offend you, Miss . . ."

"Jade." Her expression didn't soften, but at least she didn't run, which he had half-expected.

"Miss Jade, but I didn't mean it. I was just going to thank you for your kindness." He couldn't quite hide the sarcasm, though he regretted it as her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed.

"Listen,  _she_  might think that people's hair and eyes change color when they're dehydrated, but I know better. I talked to our boatman, and he said that that never happens. And he would know. So whatever you are, I don't want to have anything to do with it. It or . . . or that." Her fingers stretched out in the direction of his hand, the one marked with the Dark Triforce. When he lifted it up to show her, she snatched her hand back, holding it to her chest like he'd burnt it. "So get better and get out of here."

Her speech left him dumbfounded. "What did you do?" he muttered, though once it had woken him up, the Dark Triforce didn't seem keen to speak to him. Perhaps it had decided that Demi was too injured to continue their journey for a while. Or perhaps that it had left him in good hands.

Jade stared at him like he was crazy — which, admittedly, was fair. "She'll be up with your water soon," she finally said, smoothing the skirt of her lavender sundress, which was out of place with her makeup and demeanor. "Just stay in your room until then."

As she turned to walk away, he asked, "How far away are we from Hyrule?"

His voice made her cringe, but she stopped long enough to say, "A few miles up shore there's a river that leads into Lake Hylia."

The thought filled Dimitri with such relief that he didn't notice as she left.

He was only a few miles away from Hyrule. Only a few miles away from Zelda.


	12. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gerudo stumble into trouble, while the others are led into it.

"I can't believe we're here!" Amalyse said, her eyes wide with excitement. She was barely fifteen, the youngest of their age group, and this was her first time in Hyrule's Market Town. A girl needed experience stealing, after all, and Nabooru had been chosen to train her, which was ridiculous; she was terrible at stealth.

"It'll be good for you too, then," Aveni had said with a small smile. "If you honestly feel that you need help, I'll send Krysu with you."

Krysu had been thrilled, of course. She hadn't stopped gloating since she'd heard about the assignment, and it was driving Nabooru crazy. Which was why she'd lied and said that Tami and Jessa were invited as well, in order to keep them from messing up.

Sure, her friends would have a hard time explaining why they hadn't been to any of their training, but it had wiped the smirk off Krysu's face, and that made it worthwhile.

"It's so pretty," Jessa agreed, looking around appreciatively. She was twenty-three, making her older than the rest of them, but Amalyse's excitement was infectious.

Nabooru was still the leader, though, and she wasn't going to let anyone forget it. "Well, stop looking around like this is one big Leever patch," she hissed. "We're just here to trade, and we have to look casual."

"Why don't you let me handle this," Krysu said, faking nonchalance as she swaggered to the front of the group. "After all, Aveni trusted me —"

"Both of you, shut up," Tami said, rolling her eyes. "This is Amalyse's job, so we'll let  _her_  handle this. We're just backup, remember?"

Amalyse paled. "Oh, I don't know about this . . ."

"Come on, you're a Gerudo, daughter of the Desert Goddess," Nabooru said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Discipline, right?"

"But you guys aren't disciplined at  _all_."

Jessa chuckled, then gestured at a store with a wooden sign shaped like a ring. "Maybe we can trade some of our jewelry," she said, just loud enough for anyone walking by to hear. "I've got some stuff from Ryia he might want to look at." Under her breath she added, "The usual."

"Do us both a favor," Nabooru whispered to Amalyse, "and ignore Krysu. Watch Jessa instead."

When they entered, they saw a spindly man seated behind a glass counter, handing a black necklace to an equally spindly woman. When she'd cleared out, the five Gerudo stepped forward. Jessa took Amalyse by the arm and let the others approach the shopkeeper while they peered discreetly for cracks in the glass or an unfastened latch. Nabooru, the best-looking despite her lack of skill in thievery, stepped up to the counter, leaning on it with her forearms and smiling flirtatiously at the old man.  _Why is this always my job?_ she thought with an inward sigh, trying her best to look seductive. Krysu fell in beside her, tracing one long-nailed finger along the surfaces of every piece of jewelry on display. Between watching Nabooru's very-visible cleavage and Krysu's wandering hands on his merchandise, the shopkeeper would be too busy to pay attention as the other three strolled the shop, lifting a ring here, a watch there, slipping probing fingers into poorly-locked cabinets and cluttered displays.

At least, that was the plan. The old man, however, climbed to his feet before they could do more than get into position. "What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his eyes darting from one Gerudo to the other.

Nabooru pulled a pair of huge gold earrings from her pocket. "I was wondering if you wanted to buy these."

"Get out. I'll call the guards, I swear I will!"

Her mouth fell open. Sure, the shopkeepers weren't always thrilled to see them (with good reason), but they  _did_  offer good merchandise, and if the shopkeeper was sly enough with his pricing, this pair of earrings could make back half of what they stole. Assuming they didn't manage to get anything good, that was. "Listen, if you don't want these —"

"We saw them, Roran." A pair of guards had entered the store without Nabooru's noticing, and there were more stationed outside. "Come with us, ladies."

Amalyse looked terrified as she pocketed the necklace she'd snatched. A glance from Jessa, though, and her face hardened into stone.

Nabooru wasn't quite so under control. "What did we do?" she asked, looking at Krysu for some hint of understanding.

The guard took Tami by the arm, his fingers tightening as she tried to worm away. "You are under arrest for crossing the border into Hyrule proper. He gestured to his partner, who unfurled a scroll and read, "From this, the sixteenth day of the pregnant moon" — that was about a week ago, she believed; Hyrulian time was based on the full moon rather than the red star, as the Ryian calendar was — "of this, the one-thousand-twelfth year since the dawn of the Goddesses, those of the Gerudo race shall be accepted no nearer than the Gerudo Valley as its boundaries are currently established. Those who fail to comply (that is, found within the borders of Hyrule) shall be arrested and brought before the King of Hyrule or his acting regent immediately." He rolled the scroll up and placed it in the pouch at his hip. Snapping the fingers of his free hand, the guard who held Tami summoned those who had been waiting outside. The Gerudo all looked at each other, a little confused as to what that notice had said, especially with all that pagan-Goddeses moon talk thrown in.

Nabooru got it first. "We're  _banned?_ " None of the men answered, and after a head shake from Jessa, they didn't struggle as they were brought up to the castle and into the throne room. The guard behind Nabooru pressed his knee into the back of hers, forcing her kneel before the Hylian monarch. Watching her bow, the others did the same, though none of them looked happy about it.

The Hylian king was disappointing. From the stories she'd heard, she had expected a mountain of a man, someone who might be long in years, but who could still defeat a warrior half his age. That was how the chain of command worked. However, this frail-looking man didn't seem any more royal than the jewelry store clerk, aside from the velvet and glittering jewels.  _Ganondorf could make cucco paste out of him,_ she thought. That, of course, reminded her that she hadn't eaten cucco paste in almost ten years, not since their passage into Hyrule was limited to two days a week. His voice, however, was every bit as deep and brash as she had expected. "What were you doing in the market?"

The others were silent, apparently having decided that Nabooru was the leader. Which she supposed Aveni had appointed her as. "We were trading," she said, adding a hasty "Your Majesty" after a jab in the back from her guard.

"That is forbidden."

"We didn't  _know!_ " Amalyse exclaimed. "Nobody told . . ." She took a deep breath, and when she resumed her voice and expression were much more stoic, in keeping with a daughter of the Desert Goddess. "Our commanding officers were not informed. Neither was our king."

The king of Hyrule's face froze. "What?"

Nabooru cut in before Amalyse could say any more. "There have been some shifts in power," she said, "and if you would care to discuss them with our leaders, we would be happy to bring back a message —"

"He's back." At the king's declaration, his advisors — who had been nearly invisible as they had sat, statue-still, in cushioned wood chairs behind the throne — burst into excited chatter, their Hylian accents too thick for Nabooru to make out much of what they were saying. The king ignored them all, however, addressing Nabooru's guard. "You will send for this king," he said, "and you will take the Gerudo to the dungeons to await his arrival, at which time negotiations shall be made."

The guard hesitated; she tried to twist around to see his expression, but his grip was too tight for her to move. She knew it would be stupid to fight, but she was so tempted. . . . "Your Highness, the dungeons are not yet —"

"These ladies will be no strangers to a little blood, I'm sure." With that, he waved them away.

* * *

"Are you quite certain you haven't seen her? Blonde, dressed like . . . well, this?" He gestured to his dirty servant's garb and held his hand at collarbone-level. "About this height, if not slouching?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the guard said, shooting an irritated glance at his companion. Daphnes was still amused that his own men didn't recognize him. It must have been his accent; he was trying to imitate Zelda's manner of speaking as much as possible, and was doing rather well, he thought, "but there are a lot of blonde girls in Hyrule, and we have urgent business for the king. Now if you'll please . . ."

 _I'm your prince,_ Daphnes thought with a sigh,  _and your 'urgent business' is a Gerudo mutt._ Still, he let the guards walk past, escorting the tall, redheaded young man with surprising deference, considering his status. He plopped down onto the edge of the fountain that decorated the center of the market, in the shadow of the castle at this time of day. He tilted his head back, the sudden shade welcome after his sprint to get there.

"Hey! Your Highness!"

Daphnes whirled around on his perch, almost falling into the fountain in his haste. No one was looking at him, no guards approaching. And why would they? He was just a twenty-year-old man who needed a shower, not at all different from any other Hylian commoner.

" _Your Highness!_ " Finally he saw her, a tall, imposing figure with brilliant blue hair jutting out from under a brown cloak. She was leaning against the edge of the Happy Mask Salesman's shop, looking for all the world like any other teenager waiting for some boy. Except for her eyes, which were cold and the pale-blue color of snow before the sun fully reached the sky. And her heavy cloak.

If only Zelda were here. She would know whether this was a trap or not. Of course, if she were here, he would not be in this situation. He climbed to his feet and made his way over to her.

She looked him up and down, her expression blank. "You're Daphnes," she said. "The prince of Hyrule."

 _If Zel were here_  . . . He straightened to his full height, looking down at her with his eyebrows raised. "It is possible," he replied coolly. Two could play at this game.

A flicker of anger passed over her face. "Are you or aren't you?" she snapped. "I don't have time for this."

That was the moment he realized that everything was far worse than he thought. "I-I am. How —"

"I've been following the blonde. Zelda. She's with friends, but I need your help."

" _My_  help?" No one needed Daphnes for anything. "Do you want me to talk to my father, or . . ."

Her eyes widened, finally showing a real emotion that wasn't immediately covered up: fear. "The Royal Family can't know. They'd kill her."

"Zelda?" His heart tightened in panic. "No, they would not, they  _could_  not! I —"

"I don't mean  _her_. I . . .  _Farore_." She pressed a delicate-boned hand to her forehead, looking exhausted. "You know this girl, Zelda?" He nodded. "Then I need you. Come with me to Kakariko, Your Highness." She held out the hand; in the shade it was almost the same translucent white-blue as her eyes, and for once he felt tan in comparison.

He had no other choice, so he reached out and took her hand. "Take me to her," he said.

* * *

Jaysia had taken special care to make sure that she wasn't more than a few steps away from everyone else, letting Ryad take the lead as they escaped town. If she acted too much the leader, the others would get suspicious. Especially Impa, who knew how she was supposed to behave.

She was trying to keep the act up, but it was unbelievably difficult to remember how some teenage bastard had lived in the years when she was close to Impa. Still, when their eyes met she flashed her a small smile, as if their growing apart was a natural, regrettable part of childhood and not a calculated act. Impa lifted one corner of her mouth and a shoulder, which she took as encouragement. The problem lay with the blonde Hylian, who she hadn't counted on. When she had sensed her . . . well, she had been curious.

Her fingers reached out, almost unbidden, to snag a strand of almost-silver hair, curling it over her fingers. She was so  _miserable,_ it swirled around her like a fog. . . .

Zelda started, jolted out her dreary thoughts by the tickle on her scalp. "What're you doing?" she asked, her voice rough and thickened with a drawl, though familiar to Jaysia's ears.

"You had a lock caught in your sleeve," she said smoothly, tugging it free. "It was irritating me."

"Thanks." She ran a hand through her hair, as though reminded of its presence by her touch. She didn't look particularly pleased, and Jaysia cursed herself for rousing even more suspicion. This girl was already in a distrustful state of mind, and this foolish acquiescence to human curiosity had not helped ingratiate herself.

Before she could berate herself more, she was interrupted by Sheik. She felt his whispered call before she heard it, a dark red spike of concern. "Hey." He stopped, forcing everyone else to halt or leave him behind. "I think someone's following us."

They all peered into the blackness behind them. Jaysia knew that Zelda would see nothing, with her weak Hylian eyes. The other three, however . . . "I don't think so," Impa finally said. "I mean, I trust you way more than I should, Sheik, but there's literally nothing there." Ryad nodded in agreement.

"I . . ." Even Sheik had to admit that there was no way anyone could be hiding in the scant shadows and open plain of Hyrule field. "I could've sworn I heard something."

Ryad glanced once more at the castle wall, making sure none of the guards had heard or spotted them, though it was unlikely that they would have, as all the men been nearly asleep when they'd scaled the wall. "We're all jumpy," he said. "I'm sure it'll be better now." He took a few steps forward and knelt down, digging through the tall grass at the base of a rock half his size. "This is the one," he told them, shoving at it with one shoulder until he had uncovered a hole barely big enough to accommodate them. "Once we're underground, we'll be much safer."

As Ryad lowered them into the hole one at a time, Impa whispered to Zelda, "These rocks used to be part of a huge well for the castle, but Stalchildren kept trying to destroy it and falling into the water. Now the well is kept behind the castle and this hole was filled in. Well, except for this tunnel. We use it now." Impa, always informative and helpful.

Before she followed the others, Jaysia shot one last look over her shoulder. Still not even a hint of movement. But that was to be expected; Katia was too good to give anything away. If Ryad had been momentarily aware of her presence, it was because she had let him. The reason why, however, was impossible to imagine.

The tunnel beneath Hylian Field was pitch black, without even the stumps of torches to light their way. Jaysia could see what she needed to, though. There was the brightness of Ryad, who even at his most unhappy was more cheerful than anyone she'd ever known; Sheik, surprisingly neutral considering the circumstances, with only a niggling of unease in the back of his mind; Impa, still muttering information to Zelda — the protectiveness Jaysia felt in Impa for the small blonde surprised her. And then there was Zelda, who was by far the most suspicious, though only vaguely. She could see them as colors: amber, cool gray with shards of red, a deep, searing orange. Lovely, but not particularly helpful. She was tempted to touch Zelda again, get another taste of the stormy darkness swirling around her, but the risk was not worth the reward, even if Katia  _was_  after her.

There would be time to gather strength later. For now, she had to lead them.

* * *

Nabooru was picking at the floor with the edge of her thumbnail, scraping up flakes of dried blood that formed a splotch of dark red. She wondered how new the blood was, and who it had once been inside.

"What do you think they're talking about up there?" Amalyse asked, breaking the silence that had stretched for almost two hours, ever since the guards had informed them that their king had arrived.

Finally Jessa spoke, seeming to take pity on the poor girl. "I don't know," she said, patting Amalyse on the shoulder with three quick, hard thumps: the Gerudo gesture of comfort. "I'm sure we'll hear all about it, though, if the king deems it necessary to inform us."

"I'm sure  _one_  of us will, anyway," Krysu muttered, glaring in Nabooru's direction. She kept picking, even though the underside of her thumbnail was now coated with dried blood and it was beginning to feel sore. Unsatisfied with this lack of response, she snapped, "If only we all could take advantage of —" She trailed off, her mouth hanging open, as Ganondorf was escorted into the dungeons by a dozen guards, half in front and half behind him.

He eyed them coolly, then pointed to Nabooru (the other guards all flinched as his hand moved, though none of them drew any weapons). "That one. Come, Nabooru."

She climbed to her feet, shooting a wary glance around at her friends — all of whom looked just as confused as she felt, though only Krysu seemed irritated — before allowing herself to be led up to the throne room.

The Hylian king stared down at her, his lips pressed into a white line, as his council lined the wall behind him. "Well?" he said.

Nabooru started as she felt Ganondorf's large, warm hand on the small of her back. "Tell them why you came here."

She cleared her throat, fighting the urge to look down at the floor. She was a warrior, born and bred. Lifting her chin high, she said, "We were there to trade, as always. We had a bag of goods, but that was confiscated." Her fingernails dug into her palms in an effort not to say anything more, or to shoot an accusatory glance at his guards. There had been some good stuff in that bag, too.

Ganondorf, sensing her anger, pressed his palm deeper into her back, causing her to stumble and snap back to the situation at hand. "As you can see," he continued, fighting to keep his voice simultaneously soothing and imperious, "we came in friendship, as we so often have in the years past."

"How would you know? You weren't here," one of the advisors muttered. The Hylian king shushed him, but not before a titter spread across the room, from guards and councilmen alike. Ganondorf cringed, wishing he hadn't been ordered to come alone. He sorely wanted Aveni's counsel.

The Hylian king pursed his lips even tighter and spoke. "The bag of goods has been inspected and seems fitting with her testimony. However, I stand by my decision. You will be allowed to escort these women out of the town without incident, but there will be no further breaches of our trust. You Gerudo shall respect our laws."  _Or you will face war._ The king's lips didn't move, but Ganondorf read the threat on his face, and on the twenty or so that stared out at him, pale and round, from behind the throne.

Still, it was better than he had expected. What they would do without the Hylian market he would have to figure out later; for now safe passage back to the desert was enough.

"Your Highness!" A guard burst through the doors, shoving aside the others who tried to restrain him. There was blood on his shoes. "The Gerudo have escaped! They've gone _insane_."

The men-at-arms lining the throne room sprang into action at once, and the advisors all scrambled to their feet, shouting. In the confusion, Ganondorf grabbed Nabooru by the shoulders. "Did you do this?" he demanded.

She shook her head, eyes wide. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Ganondorf didn't look convinced. "What did you tell them to do?" he snarled, shaking her before remembering himself. His hands dropped from her shoulders, but there were angry white marks where his fingers had been. She didn't notice as they slowly turned red, or as the king cried for their arrest in a voice that was high and shrieking.

"I . . . I . . ." Nabooru's eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed. Ganondorf lunged forward to catch her, but the king's guards had finally sprung into action and grabbed him by the upper arms. He was about to fight back when the doors to the throne room flew open and his mother stormed in, flanked by two other Gerudo.

She held one hand up to silence everyone, and somehow it  _worked_. He wished that he could command that kind of power. "It's not their fault!" she shouted. "Our people are afflicted by sorcery."

The Hylian king made a noise that was half-amused, half-enraged, though Ganondorf failed to see any humor. "Oh? And how do you know this?"

"We have captured those responsible." She shot a glance at her son, though her expression was inscrutable before adding, "Koume and Kotake have come out of hiding."


	13. Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twins are always trouble, especially when one is a murderous psychopath.

Their eyes more or less adjusted to the dark eventually. Zelda began noticing that their tunnel — which was hardly wide enough to accommodate two at a time — branched off into dozens of even smaller paths that snaked away into darkness. Impa said that, back when the well was still over their heads, these had been carefully maintained by the Sheikah, allowing them to travel almost anywhere in Hyrule underground. Over the years, however, the tunnels had fallen into disrepair, and only the one they were walking down now was used with any regularity. "Most of them are too dangerous for us to use," she added. "Or so we're told."

"Not that you'd know anything about that," she replied with a faint smile, remembering how — or more importantly,  _where_  — they'd first met.

Sheik eyed one of them as they passed, running his fingers along the rough dirt and stone. "I'll bet they go all sorts of places," he said wistfully.

Jaysia, the only one who didn't seem to have trouble navigating the rocks and clumps of dirt that made up the tunnel floor, pulled Sheik's hand away. "They do not lead you back home," she said. "Get yourself killed if you must, but not when it is our job to see you back safely." Her gaze lingered on Zelda for a few moments, making her squirm, but then she turned back to the front, taking Ryad's arm once more. "Just keep going straight."

The tunnel finally ended, the branching paths becoming fewer and farther between, and their own narrowing until they had to proceed single-file. The ceiling lowered until Sheik and Jaysia's heads were nearly brushing the top. Zelda was finding it difficult to breathe in the increasingly-cramped quarters, and Ryad's breaths were quick and shallow.

Impa, who was directly behind her, put an awkward, but comforting, hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," she said. "We'll be out of here soon enough." She wasn't uncomfortable at all; Sheikah lived underground, so claustrophobia was nonexistent. Though by the way she kept close to Zelda, always maintaining body contact, it seemed that Impa wasn't as unperturbed as she pretended.

Just when they were all starting to worry about the tunnel getting too narrow to proceed, the walls ended in a large wooden door. Jaysia pulled it open and strode through without even a second's hesitation, and Ryad followed her willingly enough. Zelda, however, had to balk. "Are you guys  _sure_  you know where you're going?" she asked, straining to see anything in the darkness they had disappeared into.

"I am positive." Jaysia's voice had a strange, echoing quality, as if the room beyond the door was gigantic, but she sounded calm. "We have taken this path hundreds of times."

"I haven't." Ryad sounded a little closer, like maybe he'd taken a step or two back toward the tunnel. "I always turn off before this narrows. You know, where I  _thought_  we were headed." For once he'd started to sound a little irritated.

Jaysia laughed; once again, there was not a shred of worry in her voice. "Of course not. I went here with my —" There was a catch in her voice, which would have been almost imperceptible if their ears hadn't been tuned by their blindness — "father. He always liked it because, even though it's slower, it's harder to be followed." She was walking away, her footsteps ringing loud, like whatever floor was behind the entrance was made of something harder than packed earth and roots. "Close the door behind you," she added as her footsteps were swallowed up by the immenseness of the room.

Once she was inside and the door had closed shut with a resonant  _clunk,_ Zelda realized that it was a little brighter than she'd thought, though no source of light could be found. She could see her hand, if it was right in front of her face (and even then it was a pale gray blur), but beyond that was blackness. She just followed the others' voices. They all kept up a constant stream of chatter as they tried to find their way across the room, because it was better than listening to their footsteps echo in the silence.

The only problem was that it was much more difficult to navigate such a cavernous space than to feel their way along the tunnel. Jaysia, knowing the route, had strode through the center of the room rather than cling to the walls, leaving them lost.

Zelda took a cautious step forward and jostled someone with her shoulder. Wiry hair brushed against her face, and she asked, "Impa, is that you?"

"No, it's me, Sheik."

"Sorry! Can't see a thing —" There was a yelp of fear or pain, and then a  _thud._ "What happened?" she cried, flinging her arms out to ward off danger. _WHACK_. "Who was that?" she asked, pulling her arms close to her chest in order to avoid harming anyone else.

"Me!"

"Ryad?"

"Yeah." He sounded annoyed and a little scared, but not hurt.

"Are you okay?"

"I guess. Considering I no longer have pupils. Strong arm."

"Well, you don't really need them. It's pitch black in here." Impa's voice was coming from her right. Out of instinct Zelda reached forward until her fingers found Impa's warm, hard upper arm, and she latched onto it.

"Who's touching me?" Impa demanded.

"Sorry," Zelda said, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I guess I'm a little nervous."

Suddenly a rectangle of white light blinded them. Zelda threw her arm over her eyes with a groan and listened to the others as they made similar discontented noises. "We have arrived," Jaysia said, as though the five-minute trek had been as easy as crossing a well-lit room.

"Glad you don't have pupils  _now_?" Sheik asked as they staggered toward the light, squinting. Ryad barked out a sarcastic laugh.

They all tumbled out of the black room. "Where are we?" Impa asked, rubbing her eyes with one hand while the other stole down to her hip, where her dagger rested.

The room was made of some sort of white marble that sparkled slightly in the firelight. Looking over her shoulder, Zelda saw that the white stopped immediately at the door frame, and beyond that was the same stone in black; it explained the echoing and the bizarre sound of their footsteps. Only about five feet were illuminated by the room beyond. After that the light was swallowed up by the dark marble.

As she watched, Jaysia  _clopped_ over to the door and closed it. "We need to make it as difficult as possible for anyone to follow," she explained, "in case any of the guards somehow spotted us."

"Is that likely?" Zelda began to ask, but she was cut off by a gasp of horror.

" _Shit!_ " She was pretty sure that was Sheik's voice, but when she started to whirl around to see, a hand clamped down on her shoulder, biting into her collarbone and making her wince.

She was spun back around to face Jaysia, whose thin white face was tight with tension. "I do not want you to see," she insisted. "The others are warriors, they are prepared for it, but you . . ." Her hand was extremely cold, and those  _eyes_. . . . Shuddering, Zelda pulled away, ignoring the pain as she slipped free of Jaysia's vise-like fingers that would leave a bruise, twisting her head around at the same time to see whatever it was she wasn't supposed to.

The center of the room was decorated by a raised platform, an altar of sorts — or so she assumed. It looked like the illustrations she'd seen scratched into the salt-stained fisherman's paper that made up all of their books. Once she had pulled a thin paperback off of her mother's shelf, thinking that it might be a primer that she could use to teach Emilia to read. However, it had been filled with one-page mythological stories, gory and gritty, each accompanied by a painstakingly-inked illustration. The one that she had flicked to had been just like what she was looking at now: all white stone, draped with cream-colored cloth that hung maybe a foot off the floor. In the picture Zelda had found, the altar was soaked with puddles of black; in real life, it was red blood that drenched the cloth and smeared across the marble and pooled on the floor. However, what had shocked and horrified her was the long-legged, long-haired maiden that was sprawled across the top of the altar, her hand dangling over the edge and her eyes wide and dead.  _The Sacrifice of _Aradvkn__ , it had said, preceding a dark tale about Democres, the country that Hyrulians were forbidden to enter, and the dark god that ruled over its misshapen monsters.

The altar was there, the cloth was there, the blood was there. So where was the sacrifice?

And what, exactly, were  _they_  doing here?

Ryad had frozen a few feet away from the altar, the blood staining his dark brown boots. Impa and Sheik, unsurprisingly, had both pulled away from the center of the room, keeping near the walls with weapons at hand. Zelda stepped toward Ryad; despite what Jaysia had said about the Sheikah being warriors, he seemed the least able to understand what he was looking at, and though she had no more of an idea what was going on, she was composed enough to know that he should at least get his feet out of the blood before his boots were ruined.

 _Why are you worrying about shoes at a time like this?_ a small voice in the back of her mind asked despairingly. But it was all she could think of doing, and so she continued forward, twisting her body to the side when she felt — or maybe just imagined — Jaysia's fingers once again brush against her shoulder.

"Zelda, you shouldn't. There's too much to . . ." Jaysia trailed off as the door was flung open.

She'd expected to see a stranger, or several: the guards that had been chasing them, other Sheikah that may also have known about this room's existence and were passing through, whoever had performed this sacrifice come back to clean up. The last person she had ever thought she would see was the future king of Hyrule, still dressed in his filthy smock and smeared with sweat, dirt, and the blood that was steadily dripping from his nose. His gaze traveled over the scene with remarkable serenity, his eyes barely widening as he took in the blood.  _He must be in shock,_ she thought for a moment, before another question popped into her head:  _How in Farore's name did he find us?_

When his eyes landed on her, they brightened with relief. "Zel!" He hurried to her side, obliviously nudging Jaysia to the side, adoring as a puppy and perhaps as stupid. (She felt guilty for the thought as soon as it occurred to her. He wasn't stupid, but clinging to the one familiar face in the room. Still, she supposed she could forgive herself under these bizarre circumstances, since none of them were in their right minds.) "Are you okay?" he asked, his hands fluttering as he considered touching her, then thought better of it.

She nodded, but before she could say anything there was a  _click_ as the door closed, then the sound of metal grinding on metal. Jaysia smiled at them all, her fingers holding the lock in her fist, and shrugged one pretty white shoulder. "I told you that there was so much to explain," she said, her voice as soft and coolly polite as ever. "No one was giving me a chance." She stepped away from the door, letting the lock fall from her hand and bang against the dark wood. It had been mutilated, crushed in her palm until it was nearly fused to the door in a solid ball of iron. The first thing she wondered was how someone as small and delicate as her had managed to do such a thing.

The second thing she wondered was how they were ever going to get out of there.

Jaysia's attention had shifted to Daphnes. She leaned forward and peered deeply into his eyes. "Do you know my sister?" she asked.

* * *

Almost two hours earlier, Daphnes shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as the wolfos howled. The day was over. "Will you tell me what's going on?" he asked, not very hopeful that she would answer him, seeing as she hadn't yet. Living up to his expectations, she ignored him, cutting through the thinning crowd of people and cuccos silently. There were limits to what he would go through before getting some answers. "Will you at least tell me your name?" he demanded — though he suspected it sounded a little more like begging.

She glanced over her shoulder as they reached the entrance to the Kakariko Graveyard, pausing with one hand on the gate. He tried not to cringe as he saw her face; the scars, which had been hidden under her hair and cloak when he'd first talked to her, were in full view now, tracing angry red lines down her cheek and neck. Now that she was looking at him, seeing fully his exhaustion and his desperation, her face softened. "I'm Jaysia," she said, a little sadly, before pushing open the gate and hurrying over to the Royal Family headstone without checking to see if he was following her. She knew he would.

He didn't have a choice.

The Hyrule royal family had used the same grave for generations — supposedly since the goddesses had created men. Daphnes had never seen it in person, but the books had all described it as a labyrinthine structure that snaked below all the other graves, perhaps for miles. No one was allowed there except the gravediggers and the priests, who brought the royal corpses to their resting place and left as soon as it was accomplished. Most people said it was haunted, the priests said it was sacred, and his mother said it was filthy. All of this, plus the morbid realization that he was going to be buried there someday, had resulted in a fervent desire to never go near it as long as he lived.

Therefore, when Jaysia instructed him to grab part of the tombstone and help her carry it, he was dismayed. "Absolutely not! I will have no part in helping you defile a sacred resting place —  _my family's_ sacred resting place!" But she simply stared at him while he spluttered, and once he had quieted, said, "If you want to save your friend, you have to."

Once the grave was uncovered (and he hadn't been struck dead by the goddesses), they both stared down into the hole they had revealed. "How do the priests carry the body down?" he asked, searching for stairs or a ramp or anything besides this great black drop.

"There's another entrance, but it's in the castle," Jaysia explained, bouncing on the balls of her feet in agitation. "Just jump."

He repressed his next argument —  _but the priests say anyone who disrupts a tomb of the faithful will burst into flames —_  and gritted his teeth before lowering himself as far as he could before dropping. After what felt like a hundred feet, but was probably more like ten or fifteen, he hit the ground, the impact knocking him off his feet. His nose smashed into the stone floor and he tasted blood. Wincing, he hauled himself to his feet and rubbed his nose. "Ow," he moaned, brushing the blood off his upper lip as best he could with his fingers.

At least he wasn't on fire.

Jaysia landed next to him lightly. "You all right?" she asked, her eyes sliding past him to the tunnel beyond without checking to see if he nodded. "This way."

They walked in silence for a long time, feeling themselves descend deeper and deeper underground. Jaysia looked like she was eager to run, but knew that Daphnes wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. To distract her from her frustration, he asked, "Since we have nothing else to do, would it trouble you too much to explain what is going on?" Even when lives were in danger and he was in the grave of his relatives, Daphnes had been conditioned to be polite. Though when she said nothing for a few moments, his nerves began to fray, and he snapped, "For Nayru's sake, say  _one_  thing, will you?" Neither of them had brought a torch, relying instead on Jaysia's instincts. Still, even in the darkness he could feel the look of surprise she was giving him, and his face reddened. "It is not much to ask," he mumbled.

"No," she said. "I guess it's not.

"I spent about half of my life here. Not in these graves, exactly" — she had heard his gasp of indignation — "but in the Sheikah Caverns."

"They connect?" This was the first Daphnes had heard of this; for the first time in his life, he realized that there were many secrets that even a prince wasn't privy to, that maybe kings didn't know.

Jaysia laughed, and he could imagine that she almost looked pretty. "I don't know if they always have," she told him, "but they do now." She explained how her mother had fallen in love with a sailor who lived on the islands, and how he had abandoned her soon after she told him that she was pregnant. "I don't understand what she could have seen in some fisherman," she added, "not when she was surrounded by true Sheikah." In her voice Daphnes recognized a hint of envy and something dreamy, something he had heard in the voices of his cousins when they'd discovered the magic of sex. He wondered who she was in love with, and if he was one of the people they were searching for.

"My mother married the only man who would have her: some low-ranking second-cousin who was made bitter by his eyesight. He'd wanted to be an archer, but wasn't good enough. They hardly knew each other, but that kind of thing doesn't always matter. And then we were born."

Daphnes tripped on something that sounded horribly like a bone as it clattered across the floor. " _We?_ "

"My sister," she said, taking his elbow and pulling him upright. "Katia."


	14. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katia reveals what she wanted from them all along.

Daphnes swallowed hard as he stared into the eyes of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. One thick curl of blue hair — it was much darker than Jaysia's — rolled languidly off her forehead and dangled in front of one eye, tickling his cheek. Her face was Jaysia's, only perfect; he could see how they would be fooled. But he knew what to look for.

_"Aside from the obvious differences, my sister has a tiny birthmark below her left eye. It's hidden by her eyelashes most of the time, but if you get close enough, you'll see it — a tiny pink circle."_

A tiny pink circle. There it was.

So this was Katia.

Finding the courage to speak, he lifted his chin, never taking his gaze off of hers —  _"Her pupils will look too small all the time, and she will always_ _squint"_ — and making a mental tally of everything Jaysia had told her. "Yes," he said, fighting to keep his voice from trembling. _"Don't let her know that she scares you. She will, but you have to be calm."_ "Your sister's name is Jaysia."

Out of the corner of his eye, Daphnes noticed the short guy next to Zelda shake his head.  _Her_  blue eyes never left his, though, and the corners of her mouth turned up slowly. "Very good," she said, sounding genuinely pleased. "What a smart boy you are."

He wanted nothing more than to grab Zelda and pull her to safety, to leave the fighting to Jaysia and the other Sheikah, who at least knew what they were doing. He didn't belong here. But he quashed those feelings, knowing that they wouldn't keep him calm, and he had to be calm. So instead he returned her smile (albeit weakly) and replied, "Thank you, ma'am," as though his knees weren't locked to keep from shaking.

"What are you talking about?" the short guy demanded, breaking the spell. Katia blinked and stepped back.

"Ryad, I am afraid I owe you an apology. All of you, really." She glanced back at Daphnes with a hint of a smile, like they were conspirators. "Well, not  _you_." He kept his face blank while she explained what he already knew: her name was really Katia, she was the twin sister of their friend, and she'd been lying to them this whole time ("this whole time" being a few hours for Zelda and almost eight years for the others). "I had no choice," she finished. "If Jaysia had simply let me control her like I'd wanted, I would have been able to ignore Katia and go on like nothing had happened." She paused for a second. "I suppose I still would have had to lie to you, but it would have been a much simpler fib."

"Control?" Zelda turned to Daphnes, and he took the opportunity to pull her closer to him and away from Katia. "What's going on? I thought she  _was_  Katia."

Impa and Sheik stepped forward, startling him; Jaysia had told him that she'd seen them with Zelda and the other two, but he'd forgotten all about them. Much like the Sheikah he'd observed in his father's court, they seemed to have decided to wait and absorb everything they could before taking any sort of action. "She's insane," Sheik said with a surprisingly casual shrug. "That's the only explanation."

Daphnes had to be calm. "She's not," he said, echoing what Jaysia had explained earlier. "I mean, she might be, but it's more than that."  _Be calm, be calm, be calm,_ he thought to himself as all eyes — including Katia's terrifying ones — returned to him.

"Another correct." Katia seemed once again both amused and pleased. "I'll overlook that 'she might be insane' remark if you can do it again." She put her hands on her hips and leaned toward him expectantly. "What did my big sister tell you I am?"

"A shade," he replied, ignoring how Zelda jerked like she'd been pinched and Impa and Sheik exchanged wary glances.  _"You have to be calm,"_ he heard again, as Ryad let out a cry of horror and staggered away from the shade, as Impa raised her dagger but Sheik and Zelda still looked incredulous.

_"You have to be calm or she will tear you apart."_

* * *

"Katia killed our mother," Jaysia said, leading Daphnes further into the darkness of the royal tomb. "Not on purpose, of course, but in childbirth. I was born first, with no problems. I think she always resented me a little for that. Especially considering Mother's husband blamed my sister."

"Oh." Daphnes' mother had almost died giving birth to him, and afterward she'd never been able to have another child. For as long as he could remember, whenever his mother's maidservants went into labor, she would give them her own bed and take extreme care of them and the baby until the healer decreed them both fit to go home. It was a rare fit of compassion that only lasted as long as the delivery and recovery, and until he was about seven or eight, she would shock him again by drawing him up to her chest and crying into the top of his head. Once he was too large to fit into her lap, he would lurk outside her bedroom door and listen to her sobs. It wasn't hard for him to imagine how someone might feel resentful in the face of that kind of grief and bitterness.

Jaysia grabbed his hand, pulling him around a corner that was almost imperceptible in the dark and saving him another bloody nose. She seemed to be warming up to him. "Our 'father' was not an awful man, but the humiliation of raising a stranger's bastards, without even the mother around to help . . . and having Katia there to blame made it easier for him, I guess. He locked her away, in a room deep in the heart of the Sheikah Caverns that had long been out of use."

"I assume that is where we are headed," he said. Was it his imagination, or was it getting easier to see?

"Yes," she replied grimly. "The room had once been for sacrifices to the goddesses, but that barbaric tradition was out of practice before we were born. Mother's husband felt that the altar would make an acceptable bed, and no one would stumble on her in there. Finding her a place to live, and ordering me to bring her food daily — that was all the fatherly concern he was willing to show her. He said if he ever saw her face again he would kill her." She stopped in front of a large wooden door, pressing her palm flat against the iron handle for a moment. "For almost twenty years, the sacrificial chamber and the tunnels around it — including this tomb — were her whole world, and I was the only person in it. If she's gone anywhere, it'll be there." She pushed open the door, leading them deeper into the grave.

As soon as he'd stepped inside, a weathered and wrinkled hand snatched his arm. He leapt back, breaking its grip (and its wrist) with a cry of horror. "What _was that_?" he demanded, plucking the hand off of him and flinging it across the room like it had burned him.

"Those are your ancestors," she said. "When Katia 'found' a way from the caverns to this grave, I was terrified, too." The way she said "found" made Daphnes think that Jaysia's little sister had created an entrance. It wasn't that surprising. She'd had nothing but time, after all.

The room was covered in a thick green bilious-looking fluid that smoked and bubbled, with only a thin stone walkway snaking through it. Walking around, even standing on top of the bile, were corpses. They were tall, brown, and hunched, looking for all the world like the mummies he'd read about in his books on Ryian culture. "How?" he managed, watching as one of them shambled toward him.

"They're called re-deads, according to Katia. I don't know if she made that up or if she read about them."

"Read?"

She looked at him, seeming offended. "I brought her books," she said, like that should have been obvious. "Besides, her room was filled with them. They were all about sacrifice and were deemed too disturbing for the library. She could read just fine."

"But now . . ." He could only imagine how a girl would turn out if she spent her whole life isolated, hated by her father, wracked with guilt and resentment and loneliness, reading and rereading books of gore and death in a room where such things had taken place. "She is insane, is she not? That is why we are going after her."

She sighed, but was distracted as one of the re-deads let out a paralyzing shriek. As soon as they could move, she took his arm and hurried him across the room, bursting through the door into the one beyond.

Daphnes ducked as bats flew above their heads. "Where are we now?" he asked, struggling to read the stone that adorned the center of the room. The print was tiny and the light dim, so it was difficult. "'The sun song' —"

Mentioning their hunt had reawakened Jaysia's sense of urgency, and she ignored him as she made her way to yet another door, forcing him to run after her or be left behind. A quick "hurry!" was all she spared him, but he wasn't going to be left without answers, not when she'd finally started to explain what was going on.

"Wait!" he panted, grabbing her arm and forcing her to a brisk walk. Even that concession was enough to irritate her, but she knew better than to abandon him. "What exactly are we going to find when we get to her?"

* * *

Zelda had heard of shades before, but that had been years ago. Her mother had told her they were evil spirits that would take over her body if she didn't go to bed on time; it was widely believed that they were nothing more than an old wives' tale. But Daphnes' grim expression and the smile that spread across Jaysia's — no,  _Katia_  was her name — face was enough to make her suspicious.

She could tell that Impa and Sheik felt the same way, though Ryad still looked slightly dazed. All of them drew closer together, forming a clump in the center of the room.

Katia didn't seem to notice. "You are certainly saving me quite a lot of explanation," she told Daphnes, whose face remained stony. "Anything else you would like to add?"

Somehow Daphnes had taken over the conversation. All eyes were on him, and no one dared to speak until he did. Zelda had known him long enough to know that he wouldn't be comfortable with that duty, but she was surprised by how calm he was, and how confidently he said, "Actually, I would like to understand something."

That caught Katia off-guard as well, but she recovered quickly. "Of course," she purred. "I think it is the least I could do, considering all the trouble you have spared me."

"Where did you come from?"

The question sparked something in Zelda's mind. Before she could stop herself she said, "Yeah, shades are supposed to come from the islands near Democres." Piquo had never had any reports of shade activity, but sailors would mention strange stories of possession from the lower islands, the ones that were a little too close to the shadowy, dark land south of Hyrule.

Katia finally seemed to notice someone besides Daphnes, and Zelda felt a chill as those eyes met hers. "Where are you from?" she asked, her gaze intense and almost uncertain.

Zelda told her, trying to follow Daphnes' lead and speak as confidently as possible. Katia's eyes lit up with recognition. "You're the little girl," she breathed, and in that moment Zelda knew she hadn't been mistaken. Somehow, she made the shade uncomfortable, maybe even nervous. "How did you find me?" Zelda glanced at the others and gathered from their blank expressions that they had no more idea what was going on than she did. But that didn't matter, as Katia was momentarily lost in herself and barely seemed to register that anyone else was in the room. "I took your brother," she insisted, "but you did not know that. No one did."

Daphnes had taken advantage of Katia's distraction and was whispering urgently in her ear, but she couldn't understand what he was saying. Part of her knew that she should listen to his conversation with the others and form a plan of escape, but she couldn't. "What?" she asked the shade instead, feeling like she was standing underwater. "What did you do to Naran?"

Katia looked surprised. "You do not know? But I thought you had come to take your revenge. Why else would you be here, with these people, if not to punish me?"

A faint glimmer of memory arose in her mind: something her mother had told her when she was small enough to still fit on her lap.  _"You must be careful not to be left alone, Zelda,"_ her mother had instructed, running a brush through her long hair until it shone like spun gold. _"Shades take over the bodies of babies more than anyone else."_

 _"I'm not a baby,"_ Zelda had muttered, trying to wriggle free from her mom's embrace. _"And everyone knows shades aren't real."_

_"You can never be too careful."_

An infant was the perfect host for a shade. It was too weak to put up much of a defense, its terrified wailing wouldn't seem abnormal, and the shade would have years to mold the growing child to be an ideal receptacle for it to walk around in. Zelda's parents had often laughed about what a loud child Naran had been, but after his first few years he had become an angel, and no one bothered to look twice at him. Not his parents, and certainly not his older sister, who had always prized herself for keeping such a careful watch over her little brother — the only person, she sometimes thought, that she really loved. Her eyes filled with tears of pity, but she refused to look away from the monster who had nearly ruined Naran's life.

Daphnes' hand closed around her arm, perhaps reading something unpleasant in her expression. He was right to keep her away. If she'd had _any_  inkling of what had been going on . . . any clue as to the hell her brilliant — if rather quiet — brother had been going through. . . .

Katia was right to be afraid.

"What are you doing here, then?" she finally asked, trying and failing to unclench her jaw enough to speak properly.

The shade once again seemed surprised by her question. "He forced me out," she replied, as though that should have been obvious. "I do not know where he found the strength, but he did. I had to leave."

This also stirred something up from the depths of her memory. She had been reading  _A Piquo Compendium_ , the official history of the island that had been penned by hundreds of hands and was more filled with fishing tips and anecdotes than actual history. It was a hefty tome for a girl who was not quite ten, and she was concentrating as hard as possible to decipher the scrawled words. Naran had slipped into their room, bouncing on the balls of his feet and beaming.  _"Zel!"_ he'd cried, leaping onto her bed with a  _thud_  that had knocked the book off of her lap. She'd glared at him, but the joy on his small pink face was so unlike his normal solemnity that she pushed aside her impatience.  _"What's going on with you?"_ she'd asked instead, cupping her hands over her knees and observing how strangely giddy he looked.

Naran had snuggled into her arms, folding his gangly limbs so that he could fit.  _"There was a problem,"_ was all he said,  _"but it's fixed."_ Zelda had noticed how the corners of his mouth had twitched, as if he'd wanted to say more, but she ignored it as she pressed her face into the soft blond fluff of his hair and crushed him against her still-bony chest. She'd assumed at the time that he had been bullied and rescued himself, but now. . . .

She shook her head to clear it of these memories and turned one ear to Daphnes, who was frantically asking if she'd heard a goddess-damned word he'd said. She shook her head slightly, and he groaned before repeating his instructions.

Now someone else had taken over the confrontation with the shade. "But why Jaysia?" Ryad demanded, the question almost a wail.

"I did nothing to Jaysia. She was too old, too strong. But I was desperate enough to try, and though she failed to be an acceptable host, she inadvertently led me to her sister." A smile touched Katia's beautiful lips, and once again she was in her own little world. "Katia was nothing like Jaysia. She was isolated and miserable, without anything but her once-a-day visits from her sister to keep her entertained, and even those were growing shorter as Jaysia became closer to her friends and boyfriend. She was just lonely and curious enough to let me in, and nowhere near strong enough to force me out again. She was a real  _osdekvan._ " She giggled, and for the first time Zelda began to suspect that there was something she wasn't quite grasping about Katia.

Something seemed wrong.

* * *

"You never answered my question," Daphnes complained. His legs were aching and his nose throbbed, but he thought they were close to their destination, as the blackness was receding with agonizing slowness.

"I think I've answered enough," Jaysia growled, and he thought he caught a glimpse of pain in her expression. It occurred to him that reliving her sister's possession was not exactly easy for her.

He ducked his head apologetically as he said, "Yes, but I must know whether or not this monster — or your sister — is insane. If she will do anything unpredictable or drastic." What he really wanted to say hung in the air between them:  _If she will hurt Zelda._

The tunnel had lightened to the point where he could almost see his hand in front of his face by the time she replied. "I don't know. I only talked to her once after she was taken, when she banished me and took over my life." There was a ragged gasp, and he saw the faint outline of her head as she looked down. "I asked if I could say goodbye to Ryad, and she told me not to be stupid. She rubbed this burning potion in my hair until it wasn't as dark a blue, and then poured some of it on my face to make sure no one would ever recognize me. For good measure." She spat the words, rubbing the side of her face where the burn scars were splashed. "That's when I first really believed that she wasn't my sister anymore, that the shade had somehow found her after giving up on me. Katia would never . . ." The gasp became a sob, and Daphnes froze. He was utterly unprepared to deal with an upset woman, and so he patted her shoulder awkwardly, muttering "There, there" as though that statement meant anything.

Luckily, this seemed to be just what she needed, as she jerked out from under his hand and straightened. "She took me to the dock and put me on a boat to one of the islands," she continued; aside from a few sniffles, it was as though nothing had happened. "But as soon as it landed I returned to Hyrule. I couldn't leave Katia. I've been following her since then. She acts pretty normal most of the time, but every once in a while she would say something weird, something that only Katia would know or that didn't make sense at all. I remember she once told Ryad that he had 'a demon's physique without the ugliness.' But otherwise she didn't mess up, and no one wondered.

"She saved her real breakdowns for when she was alone. Sometimes she would start talking to herself — she didn't even care if anyone could hear her or not — and it was like she didn't know whether she was me or Katia or a monster. She would say the most bizarre, disjointed things, or just sit in silence for hours, staring at nothing.. She would cut out pictures of the sacrifices from Katia's books and pin them to the inside of her clothes, or hide them under her pillow. Once I heard her talking to herself in a weird language that sounded more like gargling than words, like maybe she was praying."

They reached a door, and Jaysia pressed her hand against it, taking a deep breath. "There's one room beyond this, and then we're there," she said. She lowered herself to the floor and held out a hand to help Daphnes. "I don't know if Katia turned the shade crazy, or if this is typical demon behavior, but either way we need a plan, because I think I know what she's going to do."

* * *

Zelda watched as Katia reached into her cloak, pulling a long, serrated knife from it that looked several decades old. "This has been with me since I was young," she said, rubbing the spine of the knife tenderly. "I found it in this very room, under that altar. It cut me a few times before I figured out how to use it." Her eyes traveled over them, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I have truly enjoyed this time spent with you. It is always pleasant to relive old memories, but I am afraid I have stalled you all for long enough. The moon should be high enough now."

"High enough for what?" Zelda asked. Her mind was still reeling from everything the shade and Daphnes had told her, and she needed a few seconds to get her bearings again.

Katia stroked Zelda's cheek with her free hand, gripping her jaw when she tried to pull away. "I was extremely fortunate to happen upon Katia," she said. "Without her I might have died. The great god  _Aradvkn_ has blessed me with this fortune, and I must repay him with the strength he needs." Before anyone could react, her hand clamped down on Zelda's jaw hard enough to make her scream, pulling her until their bodies were pressed up against each other. Only the blade was between them. "I need to give him blood, and that cucco blood over there did not work." She shrugged, her dress sliding off her shoulder to reveal gorgeous milky skin. "So I am forced to do this the hard way."

Daphnes had warned her that something like this might happen — probably  _would_  happen. "Trust me," he'd whispered, his gray eyes warm and bright enough that she'd felt like she could.

They needed her at her most frantic, her most uncontrollable.

Her most vulnerable, Daphnes hoped.

 _Please,_ Zelda thought, whimpering from the pain in her jawbone.  _Please just say it. Please let it be time._

But no one spoke or even moved as Katia's knife pressed between her ribs, then slid up to her throat. Katia stared into her eyes, and Zelda wondered how she had ever thought that cold blue stare was normal or sane. Unable to stop herself, she let out a high, keening whine that was part pain and mostly terror. _Please, Daphnes, please save me please help please please say it say it SAY IT —_

" _Guh fha sldof akkiih akkiih,"_ the shade whispered, her eyes closing in religious ecstasy and her knife drawing small dots of blood as she began to push it into Zelda's neck. " _Guh fha sld —"_

"NOW!"


	15. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shades can really mess with your mind. Sheik learns that the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of injury and death.

Sheik had often wondered how he would react in a catastrophe. He'd always pictured himself at the center of the fray, killing enemies — in his imagination, they were always Gerudo, all identical with cold black eyes and faces hidden by masks — left and right. He would get wounded, something that would leave a sexy scar, maybe, and Impa would nurse him back to health, unable to hide her grudging admiration at what an amazing warrior he was.

The reality was that his first instinct was to kick at the door until either the wood or his legs gave way, even though he would surely be crushed in Katia's monstrous grip before he made it across the room.  _Imp's right,_ he thought, his eyes traveling over the room with a kind of dull shock.  _I'm really not as good at this as I thought._

He glanced at Impa, who was staring straight ahead as what looked like her former best friend attempted to slice and dice her current one. Her lips were pressed in a thin line and her hands clenched into fists, the only indication that she was paying attention to the scene in front of her. Sheik was trying to feel fear, anger,  _something_ , but the only emotion he could muster was guilt at not being more freaked out.  _It's just shock_ , he told himself.  _Pretty soon reality will kick in, and then you'll figure out how to get everyone out of this. You just have to wait for the prince to give the word._

Speaking of His Highness, Sheik could not eliminate the nagging doubts about what Daphnes was doing here and how he fit into this whole scenario. Treasonous as it was to suspect one of the royal family of disloyalty, he still couldn't make it add up, and he hated that. But before he had time to say as much — say anything at all — he was distracted by a scream of horror.

Katia had stepped away from Zelda, wrapping one iron-hard hand around Ryad's neck and lifting him up into the air. He kicked wildly, trying to shake her off. Ignoring him, she turned her attention fully on Sheik for the first time, her lips pursing into a pout that was still beautiful even in this hideous situation. "Sheik," she said, and immediately the numbness he'd been feeling disappeared, leaving behind an icy horror that froze him just as surely as if her hand was clenched around his own throat. Ryad went limp, and Katia discarded him without a second glance. She leaned close enough that their noses were touching. "I know what you are planning. You think I must be lying, as  _y_ _ou_  do not even know.  _But I do_." With a laugh that made his blood run cold, she pulled back, letting him see the room spinning, just quick enough that the colors ran together. "Why not join me? My Lord would surely rather have servants than sacrifices. If you choose to help me, I will be waiting outside." She gave him a casual wave, then slipped through the door, turning a silver knob that was somehow undamaged.

Sheik, deciding that this was some sort of stressed-based hallucination and it was best to just go with it, stood up straight and called after her. "You know I'm not going anywhere with you, right?"

She sighed. "I suppose I expected that," she said, shaking her head and pretending to look mournful. "Oh, well. Just stay in here for as long as you can tolerate it." She flicked her hand, and the room increased its speed. With a yelp of surprise he staggered to his knees, pressing his palms flat against the marble floor to keep his chin from smashing into the ground. He managed to hold this position for approximately five seconds before the force of the spinning twisted his arms to the side, knocking him onto his side and sliding him away from the center of the room until something sharp jabbed into his back. Not bothering to notice that Ryad's body had somehow disappeared, he turned over and wrapped his arms around the altar, which was somehow pristine and white.  _This is not your hallucination,_ he thought, hearing Impa's voice instead of his own.  _It's gotta be the shade, because y_ _ou're not creative enough to come up with this._

Finally everything went still. Once he felt somewhat normal again, he groaned and climbed to his knees. "Was that it?" he mumbled, trying to make his eyes focus on a single spot on the floor. "That was noth —"

A drop of something thick and red landed exactly where he was staring. Before he could do anything more than stare dumbly at it, three more fell in quick succession, pattering across his fingers. He leaned forward to confirm that it was, in fact, blood, and his head bumped against something soft and wet. He ran his hand over his hair and hat, and it came back sticky with blood.

 _Correction: You're not_ sick  _enough to come up with this._

He tilted his head back, steeling himself against whatever horror the shade had concocted for him. As long as he stayed in the room, she was going to torture him. Hopefully, though, that meant he was winning, because whatever was outside the door could not be good. "Listen, I don't know what you're thinking, but I don't scare eas —" The words died in his mouth as he saw first the red-stained bandages which wrapped around otherwise-bare feet and snaked up legs that he'd always wanted to be more muscular, up the red eye that was as familiar to him as his own reflection. . . . His gaze stopped at that eye, because it was soaked a brownish-red, and he did  _not_ want to see where that drying blood came from.

The man leaned over him, his breath rancid with the stench of death. One hand brushed under his chin, forcing his head up with a deceptively light touch, until Sheik had seen the gore that dribbled down this man's neck and chest, that was clotting on one of Sheik's favorite shirts. "Hello," he said, his voice a whisper that came through dry, white lips. The fact that he could talk at all was impressive, considering his brains were congealing amid bits of bone from a head injury that had caved almost half of his skull in.

Sheik was face-to-face with his own shattered corpse. He opened his mouth but nothing came out; out of everything he'd imagined Katia would throw at him, he hadn't pictured anything like  _this_.

Another hand on his arm made him jump. This one was mutilated, flaps of skin dangling to reveal ropy purplish muscles. And because this was his nightmare, he knew who it was without even turning around, before she said a word in that achingly familiar voice:

"Sheik." The hand squeezed his forearm, blood pouring out with the movement to drench his shirt.

He swallowed hard and stood up, turning to see her as he spoke. "Hi, Imp."

* * *

Impa had been waiting for Daphnes' call, trying everything in her power to keep from attacking Katia and pulling Zelda to safety — suicidal, she knew. Nothing could break that girl's grip as long as the monster was inside her, and the only way to try and get her out was by waiting for the signal and hoping that Daphnes and Jaysia knew what they were doing.

Providing, of course, Jaysia could even get through the door. When she'd tried to suggest that to the prince, he'd grimaced and whispered that they were all dead if she couldn't get that door open, so what was the point in worrying about it?

He'd had a point. She moved her head imperceptibly to watch Daphnes, who was listening to Katia ramble with his eyes darting from the door to the knife. The poor guy looked like he wanted to pass out or start screaming, but to his credit his chin was high and his eyes sharp and clear. Not like Ryad, who was nearly catatonic with grief and shock, or Sheik, who didn't even seem aware of what was going on. She nudged him, but got no response; his eyes remained glued onto Katia, but there was no life in them. She wanted to ask Daphnes what they should do, but Katia seemed to be tiring of toying with Zelda and began to chant in earnest.

Whatever was wrong with her friend — and she suspected that the shade had everything to do with it — he'd have to deal with it himself.

* * *

There was no way this bleeding, shuddering monster was Impa. No way. No matter what his eyes told him, no matter that her hand was still pumping hot blood down his arm and sides, it was simply impossible that any of this could be happening.

Whether it was or wasn't was irrelevant, though. In this room, all of it was real.

Impa's red eyes were bloodshot, and there were bruises and deep scratches all over her face. Her bottom lip was cut almost in half, a thick line of blood painting her chin crimson. One eye was black and blue, swollen completely shut. It twitched as she tried to open it. Her nose was unrecognizable, a mutilated lump of torn skin and cartilage. It looked like she had taken a Moblin club to the face, one of the ones that had shards of glass and pottery embedded in the heavy wood. Her fingers reached up at his cheek; they trembled, and the dangling skin slapped gently against his chin. He staggered back, a wave of revulsion washing over him, only to bump into the other Sheik. His eyes squeezed shut and he pressed himself back against the altar. "What do you want?" he moaned, not wanting to see either of them ever again.

The other Sheik, the destroyed copy of himself, held out a hand, waiting patiently until Sheik opened his eyes to see it. His fingernails were stained red, and the bandages he wore around his fingers were soaked through. "You."

Impa came up to stand behind the copy. She nodded, and the movement sent more blood — how could there be so much? — from a gash under her chin that he hadn't noticed before. It opened a gruesome smile across her neck, and she took his hand in both of hers, pressing it against the wound. He ran his fingers unthinkingly over her torn throat to her bruised cheek, caressing her face and lips, his disgust forgotten in pity. She held his hand and kissed his fingers.

The copy caught hold of his free hand. He kissed it as well, a smirk that was both mocking and sad twisting his lips, then held it up to his skull. As he touched what remained of the copy's brain, a dim echo of pain shot through Sheik's own head, and for a moment he was frozen, his fingers coated in gore and held captive by the two most horrifying monsters imaginable.

Something snapped. Sheik staggered away from them both, his breath coming in ragged, whistling gasps. The two corpses looked at each other, then sat down on the ground with a sickeningly wet  _plop!_ , causing more blood to spread across the floor.

He put his head in his hands, feeling their eyes boring into him. They didn't speak; they didn't have to. "Does it have to be both of you?" he mumbled into his hands. Suddenly he felt a thousand years old and just desperate for it to  _end,_ even if that meant going through to door and facing whatever horrifying death (or worse) the shade had in store for him.

"No." Between the two of them, they could hardly make enough sound for one person, but it didn't matter. He'd heard, and he understood.

Lifting his head out of his hands, he looked squarely at Impa, ignoring her shredded throat, her bruised and bleeding face, the awful nothingness in her gaze. Placing one hand in the tangled, sticky mass that was her hair, he pulled her close, pressing his forehead against hers and kissing the tip of her ruined nose gingerly. The light returned to her eyes, and he felt a stabbing pain in his hand; looking down, he saw that several cuts had emerged on the previously-whole skin, identical to the ones on his copy.

For a moment he and the copy stared at their hands, then at each other. Sheik smiled ruefully, and the chapped lips of the corpse twitched to match. "So that's how it has to be," he said, and it nodded. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "All right, then." He pressed Impa firmly against himself, kissing her mouth and feeling the skin of her lips heal itself under his own deteriorating ones. The pain in his hands grew worse, and he could feel a stirring — nothing more than discomfort, for now — in the back of his skull. Part of him wanted to stop, but he knew that he had no other choice. As his head exploded into white-hot pain, he thrust his tongue into Impa's whole, healthy mouth to keep himself from screaming or pulling away. He could hear himself whimpering, but was powerless to stop it, and after a few seconds he didn't notice or care what noises he made.

The last thing he was aware of was a final glimpse of the two ghosts — if that was what they were. Impa was her beautiful self, her eyes still closed and enjoying the kiss as though she couldn't tell what was happening to him. The copy of himself was perfectly healed, too, his clothes spotless and his expression one of exasperated affection.

He shook his head at Sheik, and everything disappeared in a blaze of agony.

* * *

"Now!" Daphnes shouted.

Sheik's eyes flew open. He was okay, he really was. Impa, too. For a second he could only stare at her, the fierce determination in her expression, the lithe body that he had never fully appreciated. Sure, he'd always thought she was gorgeous, but unscathed, unbroken . . . she was a work of art.

Almost before he could process where he was, everything leapt into a flurry of activity. Impa leapt at Katia, her long knives already drawn and ready. Zelda crumpled to the ground, pulling Katia into a more vulnerable position and hurrying to safety. Ryad waited at Impa's left side; Zelda and Daphnes, who were by far the weakest fighters, were supposed to hover around the periphery and do whatever they could to help (which really meant retrieving lost weapons and staying out of the Sheikahs' way). There was an empty space to Impa's right, where Sheik was supposed to be helping her.

He tossed two knives to Daphnes. "Cover for me!" he shouted, and sprinted for the door without waiting for an answer.

Jaysia hadn't counted on the door being impossible to open, and so neither had Daphnes. Someone had to break it open or they were all dead. Luckily, he knew that there was something in the room that could do the job, even if he had no idea what that something was. He scanned the walls, searching for anything that would be heavy enough to crack his skull open. If it could smash through bone, it could definitely make kindling of that door. . . . Finally he spotted a large golden chest in the corner of the room, half-buried under a white silk sheet. He had no way to open it — nor did he have time — but he assumed it was some sort of urn or religious relic that had long been forgotten. In any case, it would work.

The door was shaking on its hinges, but wouldn't budge. Sheik yelled, "Stay back!" and barely waited before swinging the chest as hard as he could. There was a loud  _crack!_ and a spiderweb of fractures appeared in the wood. He swung it once more, and the door gave way, revealing a hole the size of his head. Two lily-white arms burst through the gap, clawing at the wood until the break was large enough for the girl to fit her head and shoulders through.

"Help me!" she snapped, and he pulled her through the hole with minimal lacerations, hiding his shock at her scarred face as well as he could. The second her feet touched the ground, she ran for the center of the room, where his four friends were circled around Katia, each lunging forward and attacking, then leaping out of the way before she could retaliate.

As Jaysia appeared, everyone else fell back. "Where were you?" Impa hissed, their eyes on the twins.

He jerked his chin towards Jaysia. "Getting reinforcements."

"I thought you'd abandoned me."

The two girls were staring at each other, frozen; Sheik assumed that he had a second and turned to her. "Like I'd abandon you, Imp," he said, wiping blood from a cut on her cheek with his knuckles.

Impa's eyes widened, and a hint of color flushed her cheeks. "I know," she said, sounding a little defensive, and turned her gaze back to the problem at hand.

Jaysia and Katia were still in their standoff. Katia smiled, mocking her sister's disfigurement with her own perfect face. "It took you long enough, dear sister," she said with a light, airy laugh. "If you had waited any longer, that girl's pretty neck would be gushing blood  _all_  over this altar."

Jaysia's face tightened, her jaw clenching and her eyes narrowing. "You're not my sister," she snarled. "And how —"

Katia shook her head with another giggle. "Shades cannot read minds or predict the future, silly. I just know  _you_." Her expression was both amused and pitying as she added, "Did you really expect me to believe you would send  _that_  little ball of fluff to fight your battles for you? No offense, sweetie," she called to Daphnes, "but I knew that she would not let you come here without being close behind. I mean, we  _are_  sisters, for  _Aradvkn_ 's sake." Suddenly she tapped each of her temples and her chin, forming an upside-down triangle. "Apologies, Lord — how  _dare_  you attack a praying woman?" she snarled, as Jaysia took advantage of her sister's distraction to lunge. The two girls were at once a blur of flashing blades and hair and limbs.

As soon as they were occupied, the rest of them returned to their circle formation, though only Sheik and Impa were able to attack without accidentally hitting Jaysia instead of Katia; Ryad stared in shock at his girlfriend, who looked nothing like he'd remembered, and Daphnes and Zelda focused most of their attention on staying out of the way.

"What do we do?" Zelda asked, watching helplessly as Impa snatched a handful of Katia's hair, only to have her captive twist away.

"We remove the shade from Katia, then escape," Daphnes said.

"Is that even possible?"

He didn't answer; he just inspected one of Sheik's knives before handing it to Zelda. "I doubt it," he murmured finally.

"That's what I thought. Does this mean we have to —"

"I fail to see any way around it."

"Come on." She took his hand, not even pretending that they were important to the battle, and grabbed the one other useless person, Ryad, by the elbow. "Daphnes says we have to kill Katia," she whispered to them.

"Jaysia will attempt to stop us," the prince cautioned. They both turned to Ryad to see how much of this he was absorbing.

"You want me to kill my girlfriend?" Ryad's brown eyes were wide and blank. Zelda felt bad for him; though he'd had the same training as Impa and Sheik, he seemed like the kind of person who would enjoy farming or owning a shop rather than fighting, and he seemed utterly unprepared for this.  _Then again, Daphnes adapted,_ a pitiless and practical voice muttered in the back of her mind. She watched him explain to Ryad that Jaysia was really the girl he loved — no matter how scarred she was — with ridiculous patience, and felt a rush of warmth fill her. It was part pride at his maturity, and part something else that she did not want or have time to define.  _He'll be a great king._

"We need to warn Impa and Sheik," Daphnes whispered, once he had gotten Ryad to shakily agree that Katia was not his girlfriend, and that he would do anything to save the  _real_ Jaysia, "but I do not wish to leave Jaysia alone to fight this monster. It might kill her."

Zelda opened her mouth to agree, but was cut off as the fighting stopped. Once again everyone was frozen: Impa had Katia's thick navy hair wrapped around one hand and held a knife to her throat with the other. Sheik had smashed open the golden chest and drawn a beautiful brass dagger from it, which he had pointed at Katia's chest. Not that it was really necessary; even with the shade's powers, she was almost too exhausted to stand, and Jaysia's sword was dangling uselessly from her fingertips. Ryad scurried to Jaysia, drawing her against his side and burying his face in her hair.

"Well?" Impa demanded. "What now?"

"Now's your chance," Zelda muttered, elbowing Daphnes forward. He shot her a quick, panicked look, then shook his head.

"I believe," he said, meeting Jaysia's gaze without fear, "that we have no choice but to kill her."


	16. Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheik never expected it to go down like this.

"Absolutely not," Jaysia said immediately, disentangling herself from Ryad and shooting Daphnes a look of desperation and fury. "You can't expect me to have come this far only to kill my sister."

"I thought I was not your sister," Katia said coldly. "You cannot keep changing your mind, or I shall suffer severe psychological trauma."

 _Too late._ None of them said the words, but it was clear that they were all thinking it. Jaysia dragged them back to the issue at hand: "I brought you here to help me  _save_ her, not kill her!" she spat at Daphnes.

"And if I thought it were possible to save her, I would," he replied with a calm that visibly infuriated Jaysia. "But I do not see how it can be done."

She shoved away Ryad, who was trying to get a better look at her scars, and stalked forward until her nose was almost touching Daphnes'. "What do you know about it?!" she demanded.

He lifted his chin; Zelda was perhaps the only one who knew him well enough to see how nervous this whole situation made him, but he kept himself remarkably cool. "I have read a great deal about the various monsters of Hyrule, even the supposedly imaginary ones. Shades have been around for centuries, and there is a great deal recorded about them."

"And  _all_ the books you've read say the host must be killed?" Despite the harshness of her expression, Jaysia's voice was hollow, like she knew what the answer would be.

"Every one."

For a moment she seemed lost, but then her eyes lit up. "Even these?" She waved a hand around the room, which was littered with giant tomes covered in a heavy layer of dust and shoved into the corner.

Watching her suspiciously, Daphnes stepped away from the circle and picked one up, wiping off the leather cover and pulling it open. "I have never seen these before," he said, turning the yellowed pages with interest.

"Most of them are in Democren, and the rest are some ancient form of Hylian. I could never read them."

"My understanding of ancient languages is far from excellent, but this . . ." Despite the horrors of that afternoon, despite the bloodshed, he found himself engrossed. "' _The great Lord Aradvkn be with you,_ '" he read. "' _Please join us in cursing the golden Goddesses._ ' This seems to be some sort of script for a worship service. But the Democrens almost uniformly worship Aradvkn, and everyone knows he is the goddesses' brother. As far as any written history that I have read is concerned, there is no bad blood between any of the holy siblings." He snapped the book shut. "This appears to be the text of a fringe cult," he said dismissively, setting it on the ground. "Fascinating, yes, but not particularly helpful." _  
_

"Then find another one," Jaysia snapped. "Read every damn book in this room until you find a way to cure my sister!"

"Seriously?" Impa asked. "How long do you expect us to wait here while you send the prince on this wild cuckoo chase?"

Jaysia knelt down and picked up her sword, pointing it at Impa in case she attempted to slice Katia's throat then and there. "We're not going anywhere, are we?" She lowered the sword until it was touching Katia's nose. " _She_ certainly isn't."

"Put the sword down, Jaysia," Sheik commanded; he didn't like that the girl's first instinct was to point it at Impa, especially considering the vision he'd had earlier. Sure, he expected  _Katia_  to be the one to bash his skull in, but it didn't mean he needed another crazy twin to fight. Luckily for him, Jaysia did what he'd asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Thank you," Katia said. "I really appreciate that." As soon as the words had left her mouth, she jerked her head back and down, butting Impa in the stomach and dodging the knife at her throat at the same time. She snaked to the side to avoid Sheik's dagger, then lunged forward, skimming her head under the blade so that it cut most of her hair, freeing her from Impa's grasp almost painlessly. Crossing the circle in a few quick steps, she swiped up Jaysia's sword and nearly tackled Daphnes, grabbing his hair in one fist and pressing it against his throat. "Do not come any closer," she warned, dragging him backward. "I still need a sacrifice, after all." To Daphnes she said, "It is not personal, Your Highness. I like you well enough, though I  _am_ hurt that you wanted to destroy me after our time together. But please do not think poorly of me because of this." Jaysia took a step forward, and Katia pressed the blade into his skin until a thin line of blood appeared. "I am warning you," she said, though she sounded a little uncertain; if she killed Daphnes, there was nothing keeping them from attacking her, and she did not seem like she could fight all of them off.

 _Then again_ , she thought, a trickle of blood snaking down her hairline (not all of her hair had escaped Impa's grip, and a good chunk of it had been pulled out at the roots),  _Aradvkn might reward my sacrifice with more strength. And if Jaysia is determined to protect me . . ._  For a moment she imagined digging the sword into the prince's neck, drawing a jagged curve right through his Adam's apple and feeling his blood gush over her hand. The two Sheikah would attack her immediately, of course, but if she threw the body at them they could be halted for a second. Zelda would be useless — any fear she'd had of the blonde girl seeking revenge had long been extinguished — and Ryad was something of a mystery. Would he help his friends, or would loyalty to his girlfriend (and perhaps a lingering desire for the body he had loved) force him to defend her?

And  _would_ Aradvkn bless her with renewed strength?

It wasn't worth the risk, she finally decided. She would leave the boy alive, at least for now. Killing him would only create enemies.

 _Or maybe you're just a coward,_ a small voice whispered in her mind. She wasn't sure, but it sounded a little like that girl's brother and a little like the real Katia. But that couldn't be. She had left the boy far behind in Piquo, and Katia had been crushed years ago. There was nothing left of her.  _Or is there? Are you sure that she isn't the one who's staying your hand right now? Maybe you've lost some of your demonic nature. You're becoming positively . . ._ human.

That was idiotic! She would kill all of them in time, but this was not the right moment to slay the prince. If she was able to remove a more powerful fighter from their ranks, however . . .

 _I'll show you human,_ she thought at whatever the voice was, then drew her sword out of the way before shoving Daphnes away from her with all her might. He staggered forward; Jaysia, who was closest, caught him and helped him to his feet.

Katia ignored them both and sprinted forward, positioning her sword at the optimum angle for impaling Impa as she ran. **  
**

She didn't notice the gray-and-black blur that streaked across her vision until it stepped in front of her sword.

* * *

The first thing Sheik was aware of a brilliant light. He opened his eyes, cringing. "Can someone turn that down?" he asked, struggling into a sitting position.

"You're awake!" He felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest and a face press against his neck. Whoever it was let go of him and sat back, and he saw Impa, looking pale and frightened but absolutely beautiful. There was a bandage tied around her head, but other than that she was fine. "Oh, this," she said in response to his questioning look. "After Katia attacked you, I went after her. Jaysia didn't like that and hit me with the butt of that dagger you'd been holding." She touched the bandage self-consciously, then shrugged, exasperated. "You could've used it instead of letting yourself get run through, you know," she added. "Stabbing her would have been a lot more helpful than dropping it on the ground and jumping in front of me."

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

She snorted. " _Clearly._ " There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other, both overwhelmed with relief that the other was alive. "I can't believe you made it," she finally said. "I thought . . ." She pressed her lips together and looked away, her eyes wet. That shocked him more than the knowledge that he was alive; never in his life had he seen Impa cry. Not when she had broken her foot, and certainly not in a well-lit infirmary in the heart of the Sheikah Caverns, while he was lying in a hospital bed, sore but alive.

"What about Katia?" he asked, trying to distract them both from the surreality of this situation.

Impa shook her head. "Dead." She laughed. "You wouldn't believe it — Ryad smashed her head in with that weird golden chest you found. If you hadn't picked that up . . . I mean, no one else was going to get past Jaysia."

He wanted to ask about the others, but was interrupted by a scream coming from outside. It was long and chilling, and unbearably loud. At first he was afraid, but when Impa didn't seem perturbed, he asked, "Should you help her? Or can you tell her to shut up?"

She shook her head. "That's just Zelda."

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's upset that you're dead." When he just stared at her, horrified, she gave him a sad smile. "Come on, Sheik, did you really think you would survive a sword through the stomach? Even if someone had killed Katia the second it happened, you would've died of blood loss before we made it out of the room — forget about following that insane maze of tunnels. You were done before the sword left your back."

Sheik shook his head. "No, that doesn't make sense." He looked down at his chest, which was wrapped tightly in a white bandage identical to Impa's, then back up at her. "I'm supposed to get my head caved in. Katia showed me that."

"Katia can't read the future. Shades are powerful, but not  _that_ strong." She took one of his hands, brushing his hair out of his face with her other hand and looking at him tenderly. "She was messing with you, Sheik."

"Oh." He ran his free hand over his stomach, surprised that it didn't hurt. But then again, death wasn't supposed to hurt. "So this was pointless?"

"No. If you hadn't jumped in front of me, I would've died. You still saved my life, even if it wasn't the way you thought it would be."

He nodded. "That's good, then," he said, looking up at her and smiling. "I'm glad I did it, then."

Impa rolled her eyes. "Stupid," she muttered, then looked embarrassed — perhaps because she was mocking a dead person. "Thanks."

He waved her gratitude away dismissively. "No problem. Though . . ." He met her eyes and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. "Could I have a kiss? I think it's the least you could do, considering I died for you and all."

"I should've expected that." Despite her annoyed tone, there was a smile on her face as she leaned forward and kissed him. "Don't you care that this isn't real?" she murmured around his lips.

"It's real enough. Besides, it's the closest I'll get, isn't it? Being dead and all."

"Not necessarily." He pulled away from her, confused. She beamed, and deep dimples appeared in her cheeks. Those weren't Impa's.

"What —"

"I guess I just like you." Her face was transforming, her eyes changing from red to purple to a deep sapphire, her skin becoming milky white, her hair darkening at the roots to a sky blue — though the tips remained silver. The muscles and bones under her face were rearranging themselves, a process that should have terrified him but he found merely interesting (after being told he was dead, it took a lot to surprise him). When it was done, a beautiful young woman with shoulder-length wavy hair and a thin, wise face sat on the edge of his bed. "You did a good deed," she said, "and you deserve a better end than this. Though it will be very difficult."

"What do you mean?"

She laughed, the sound light and tinkling and nothing like Impa's husky one. "You were impaled on a sword, Sheik. Returning to that moment is going to be unbearably painful." She cocked her head to the side, something knowing in her expression, and all of a sudden he realized who she was. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He nodded, closing his eyes. A second later they snapped open and he reached forward, snatching at the girl's arm. "Nayru!"

The goddess looked pleased. "Yes?"

It was a stupid question to ask, a  _useless_ question to ask, but he couldn't resist. "Did . . ." He swallowed, afraid of what the answer would be. "Did I matter? I mean . . ." He ran a hand through his hair, not sure how to phrase it.

"More than you know, Sheik. You have been — and you  _will_  be — very, very important."

"Okay." He sat back against the pillow, letting out a sigh of relief. "Good. That's — that's good."

She took his hand in his, and the too-bright light became even more brilliant until it engulfed everything.

* * *

He hadn't even opened his eyes before the pain kicked in, and Nayru had been right: it was  _excruciating._ Worse than getting his skull bashed in, worse than he'd ever imagined. This was tattered skin, this was twisted and shredded organs, this was an agonizingly dull sword through his goddess-damned  _stomach_ , and for a moment he could do nothing but scream and wish he had just gone into the stupid light and said a fond farewell to the mortal world.

Because the mortal world? It absolutely  _sucked._

Zelda was still shrieking, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide with horror. The others weren't directly in his field of vision, and he didn't care to try and find them. He had been spared a painless, instant death in order to accomplish something, and he was not going to leave without accomplishing it. "Impa," he croaked, his diaphragm protesting violently to his attempt at speaking.

She had been standing behind him, and had almost been close enough to end up impaled as well. Once Katia had yanked the sword back, looking more shocked than anything else, Sheik had crumpled like a rag doll, and Impa had caught him and lowered his limp body to the floor. She was kneeling next to him, holding his upper body in a somewhat-sitting position and letting his legs stretch out to the side. Her eyes were wet, but she hadn't cried. Not yet. "I'm here," she said, then paused, her hand hovering above his cheek as though she was unsure what she should or was allowed to do.

Another jolt of pain shot through him; Nayru may have given him a little time, but it wasn't much. Luckily, not only did it spare him minutes or hours of a terrible death, but it saved him the effort of trying to come up with a long, flowery speech about his undying love — which was undoubtedly for the best, as he was great at making up speeches, but hopeless at admitting his feelings. It would have to be quick.  _A little wisdom would nice,_ Sheik thought, thinking a quick prayer could only do him some good.Apparently Nayru had heard him, because the words popped into his head a second later, and they were perfect. _Thank you,_ he prayed, taking her hand and pressing it firmly against his cheek. "Impa, it's never been anyone else."

"I know," she said, and laughed bitterly. "I wish I'd known that a little sooner, or I wouldn't have been so afraid to . . . to . . ."

He smiled weakly. "Mistakes were made," he joked, echoing the hilariously-vague excuses the court nobles always made when something went horrifically wrong and they were trying not to admit that it was all their fault.

She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "You can say that again."

He never did, though. A brief look of longing passed over his face, then one of intense pain, then nothing. He was gone.

Impa wanted nothing more than to hook her arm around his shoulders and pull him to her, to kiss his cooling forehead and cheeks and lips even though he wouldn't feel it, to sob and wail and lay next to his body until Katia's sword cut through her own stomach, but she knew that wouldn't do any good. She was lucky enough that the shock of what had happened had given her enough time to say goodbye. Thanking the goddesses for that small blessing, at least, she climbed to her feet and found herself staring into the insane, furious, gorgeous eyes of Katia.

"He died," she whispered. "He died for  _no good reason._ " Impa stayed silent, looking around desperately for some sort of weapon to use, but found nothing. Her knives had skittered across the room at some point — probably when she collapsed to the ground with Sheik, forgetting all of her training for a few fatal seconds — and she was left utterly vulnerable. She forgot about her friends, even about the corpse of her could-have-been,  _should_ -have-been boyfriend; all that was real was the twisted face of Katia and the broadsword she held in her hands. "He thought he could save you by dying, but he didn't save anyone.  _Do you hear me?!_ " she shrieked, clearly losing control. "He — he —" Unable to express her rage in words, she lunged forward, swinging the sword as hard as she could.

Impa didn't even have time to move.


	17. Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katia was an easy target, but she's stronger than the shade gives her credit for.

Fortunately, not everyone had forgotten their training. As a flash of pale blue hair burst across her vision, she felt someone's hand close around her upper arm and haul her backwards. She stumbled back, and felt the person's other arm wrap around her chest, steadying her. "It's okay, Impa," Ryad said, his voice just above her ear. The words were meaningless, gibberish meant to soothe without actually being true, but she allowed herself a split second to pretend that, sure, everything was okay. Maybe Sheik wasn't really dead, and they weren't really locked in an underground torture chamber with a mad demon. Maybe —

_Come on, Imp. Don't be stupid._

She shook her head, shrugging out of Ryad's grip. "I'm fine," she told him. "Where are my daggers?"

At the same time, Jaysia had slammed her too-thin body into Katia's, knocking her into the ground. She slammed Katia's head into the floor — there was a gratifying  _crack_  — then rolled her sister onto her back and pressed one hand into her throat as hard as she could, pinning her to the ground and cutting off most of her air. She then pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Locking her gaze with Katia's, she felt around until she found the hand that held the sword and pressed her knee onto it, grinding Katia's knuckles into the rough stone until her grip loosened, then taking the sword into her free hand. "Just try me," she snarled, holding the red-glistening blade in front of her sister's nose. Sheik's blood dripped onto her nose, but the shade didn't flinch.

Katia's eyes were glassy from lack of air and her head wound, but she managed a smirk through the blood that caked her lips. "You really wish to fight a shade?" she whispered, blood burbling up from between her lips with each word. "Even with a broken nose, I am still far too powerful for you."

"You seem pretty well defeated now. Why don't I just cut your head off?"

"Your sister would not appreciate that."

Jaysia's stomach tightened at the mention of her twin. To buy time, she shifted her weight, pressing down more firmly on Katia's throat and hand, and inspected the face that was somehow familiar and alien. She had stalked Katia for years, memorized her attitude and her movements. She knew the shade's face well enough to draw it from memory, but she had never really allowed herself to look at it as anything other than a screen separating the monster from the real world. Now, however, she forced herself to try and find her sister in the shade.

There was the birthmark, for one thing. A little pink circle that darkened into salmon when she was stressed or upset. Though blood from her ripped-out hair had obscured most of it, she could still see a sliver of the dark pink mark. As Katia's mouth fell open, trying to draw in as much air as possible, Jaysia recognized the chip in her top tooth that she'd gotten trying to escape a re-dead. Her pupils were little more than pinpricks, but the iris surrounding them was the same ice-blue as her own.

She was Katia, but not. She was the shade . . . but somehow, also not entirely.

Her sister was still in there. And that meant it was Jaysia's job to save her, if that was even possible.

Ignoring everything else, she leaned forward until her nose was against Katia's, trying to see past the monster. "Do you want me to kill you?" she whispered.

For a moment the shade simply looked amused. Then its eyes went impossibly wide, and the pupils expanded almost to a normal size. The body beneath her jerked, then went utterly limp, and Jaysia wondered if somehow the question had killed her. But then the tip of her tongue poked out, licking her cracked lips gently. Then she heard, little more than a whisper:

"Yes."

* * *

_Katia was unbelievably sick of dust._

_Her bed was made of old sacrificial cloth that was crumbling away. The books that made the rest of her furniture were covered in dust. The walls were covered in dust. The floor was so dusty she could draw in it. Her eyes always stung and felt dry._

_Sometimes, when Jaysia remembered, she would bring her some water to bathe in. She would beg Jaysia to let her keep the leftover water, would pile her books onto her bed, and upend the basin, watching the liquid cut through her carpet of dust in slow-moving tendrils. It would turn her room into mud, but for a few hours there would be some reprieve from the endless drought._

_It had never occurred to her to ask for a broom. At ten years old, she didn't know that there was a way to get rid of the dust; she assumed that the Upstairs World (as she called it) was just as coated in filth_ _._

_She sat up, swinging her tiny, birdlike legs onto the dust carpet. Jaysia was supposed to be coming sometime . . . soon, she hoped._ "I'll be back tomorrow," _she'd said. Katia didn't know whether it was tomorrow, but she couldn't stand waiting anymore. "Jay?" she called, coughing a bit from the dry air. She climbed to her feet and crossed the room in delicate steps, pulling open the heavy door to her bedroom. "Is it tomorrow yet?"_

_There was no answer. The smooth marble floor was a pleasant change, so she stepped out into the room beyond hers. There were no torches anywhere else in the tunnels, as far as she could tell, but the dark didn't scare her. There was darkness, there was torchlight, and there was the sickly green light of the re-dead room. She knew better than to venture too far from home, though; no one but Jaysia ever visited her, and once she'd been lost for almost a day and a half before her sister had rescued her. "Jay?"_

_Something grabbed her leg, digging sharp claws into the meager flesh of her calf. She tried to scream, but another hand clamped over her mouth, raking four long gashes in her cheek. The hand holding her foot jerked, sending Katia sprawling to the ground. Her head smacked against the marble with a dull_ thud,  _but she held onto conciousness with everything she had._

_"JAY!" she shrieked, wriggling out of the monster's grasp and scrambling back to her room. She didn't even look behind her, but slammed the door as hard as she could on the imposing darkness. She pressed her scrawny back against it and pushed, her feet kicking up clouds of dust until she realized that nothing was trying to get in. She paused, refusing to step away. She cupped her hand to her cheek and sniffled, wincing as blood ran down her wrist._

_Jaysia would be visiting soon, and the monster would attack her unless she did something about it. Casting her eyes about, she saw the hole that she had carved in the wall using only an old sacrificial knife and a lot of time. It led to the re-dead room, but she thought that maybe there was something beyond it. She'd always been too scared to explore._

Couldn't be as scary as  _that_  creepy thing _, she thought, hearing her sister's lilting, confident voice._

_"Okay," she whispered. Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from the door, cringing as she expected it to burst open. When it didn't, she raced over to the hole and threw herself into it, clawing her way through the stone tunnel until she found herself in the re-dead room. She stretched out one pale hand . . ._

_. . . And clamped it around someone's ankle. "Jay?" she breathed, squinting against the greenish glow of the room. When someone bent down and plucked her up by her wrist, pulling her to her feet with ease, she realized that this couldn't be her sister._

_Not with claws like that, already stained with her blood._

_"Hello . . . Katia, is it not?" The monster lifted her up into the air, her toes dragging against the ground. When the re-deads screamed, she was frozen, but the monster didn't suffer any ill effects. "You are a pretty little girl."_

_The shocking thing was that, despite the wicked claws and inhuman strength, he didn't look like a monster. His eyes were large and red with tiny pupils, and he looked a little fuzzy, like he was blending into the shadows behind him, but otherwise he was a typical young boy. Or, at least, what Katia's books had told her a boy should look like. His hair was unruly and long, curling sweetly behind his ears in straw-yellow locks, and a spray of freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. He looked to be about her age._

_Katia's mind was moving rapidly, beyond her control, just as surely as her body was paralyzed by the re-dead's cry. Red eyes, small pupils, claws, freezing to touch . . . Her books were full of creatures like these, children of the god Aradvkn and bred for evil. This was . . . this was . . ._

_"A shade." Its voice was lower-pitched than she'd expected, with a strange undercurrent that reminded her of footsteps over gravel, only harsher. Darker. "I would be quite disappointed if you had not guessed it, but then again, it is not your mind that I am interested in."_

_"Who?" she asked weakly, once she was able to speak again._

_"This body? His name was Naran. He was mine for nearly eleven years, but he became so terribly strong." He smiled, revealing a chip in his tooth that matched hers. His hair, too, was beginning to grow, swaying down to his hips and becoming tinted with blue. "I was forced to relocate."_

_As he —_ it —  _spoke, Katia felt herself growing dizzy and faint. Her stomach felt like it was turning over, and suddenly it took all she had to keep from retching._

 _"There will be some discomfort. I am sorry." Its eyes grew wider, never losing their red hue but matching the shape and size of hers, down to the last eyelash. As they did, she realized that she couldn't move her gaze anymore, or blink. As the changes were made complete, she was as paralyzed as if the re-deads had shrieked again._ If only.

_The little girl in front of her blinked, looking around with a smile. "That was much easier than I had expected," it said, staring her up and down. "You are nothing like your sister." Leaving Katia unable to ask how it knew Jaysia, it held her hand, pressing its fingers against hers, and slipped into her skin as easily as walking through a curtain — for him, anyway. As it filled every crevice of her body and mind, she felt a horrible tearing, like she was breaking in two. If she had been able to scream, she would have frozen the re-deads herself. "Lovely," it said with her voice, running its hands over her stomach and hips. "This will do just fine."_

_Katia couldn't speak, but she found that she still had a voice within her own mind. It was weak and exhausted, but it was there._ Why me?  _she asked._ Why couldn't you have just taken a baby like other shades?  _It was a selfish question, but she was far from caring. The pain was weaker, but she still felt like her body was covered in tiny pins._ _  
_

_"Babies are easy to take, but they grow older. They are loved by their families, and feed off that love. They develop minds of their own." Katia felt her jaw clench painfully, though she hadn't moved a muscle. "They free themselves." She bent down and crawled back through the hole in the wall, returning to her room. "People like you are not loved. You are already dead."_

Am not,  _she thought, indignant despite the circumstances._

_The shade picked up one of her books, brushing off the dust and leafing through it. She smiled at the images of gory sacrifices. "You live here alone. You have never even seen the sun, something the weakest and most pathetic shade has learned to loathe. You are dead in all the ways that matter."_

Jay loves me.

_"Ah, yes. Your sister. I have met her." She stepped into the marble chamber, unfazed by the darkness. "Who do you think sent me here?"_

She wouldn't do that.

 _"Oh, would she not? I needed a body that was weak enough to host me, and she knew that I would ravage the entire country until I found one. She knew how painful a shade's presence was, even for a moment." She laughed, skipping a few steps and spinning around. "You are well aware of that. Unfortunately, that will never go away. It is a hazard of my being." She shrugged and continued._ _"Your Jaysia is a caring little girl, and she did not want to hurt anyone unduly. Especially not a little child, one with so much to live for — thank you very much for telling her about shades for me. It made explanation_ much _easier._

_"So she was left with one question: Who would be vulnerable and pathetic enough to be a host, who would not have much of a life to lose?" Katia's body pushed against the door at the end of the hall, revealing an old stone-and-dirt tunnel. Katia had never been more than a few yards inside, but it seemed she was about to see much more of the Upstairs World. "It was an obvious choice."_

I don't believe you.

_"You do not need to. You will have proof soon enough."_

* * *

The shade hadn't been able to offer her any substantial proof, but watching the familiar way with which Jaysia had spoken to the monster in her body, the way she hadn't been shocked when she realized that Katia wasn't her sister anymore . . . that had been proof enough for her.

She didn't try to take control of her body, not even as she clutched Jaysia's hair, drenching it in a burning, sizzling potion until it was a much paler blue. Her hand had blistered and bled for days afterwards, but she wrapped it up in a bandage and told her friends — people she had never seen before in her life, but who loved her even more than Jaysia had — that she had cut it in sword practice. When the potion, soaking her sister's hair until it ran down her face, neck, and back, began to scar her beautiful skin irreparably and she started screaming, Katia still did not try to steal her body back.

It was painful, having the shade inside her, and of course she was sad to have hurt Jaysia and banished her. But she had a father who loved her. A best friend named Impa, even if they weren't friends for very long. A boy almost two years older than her who smiled at her every day and brought her sweets from his house, who asked her on a date when she was only fourteen years old. She was trapped, sure, but no more than she had been her whole life.

It could have been much worse.

Now, however . . .  _This isn't worth it,_  she thought to the shade, the first time she had spoken to it since it had met Zelda and the others in the market.

They were struggling to breathe, having found themselves pinned down by Jaysia with a sword dangling in front of their face. The shade was clever, though, and as it gasped taunts at her older sister, their eyes darted around for some sort of escape and it kept up a conversation with her inside their mind.

 _Come on, Katia,_ it said gently.  _Have I not been good to you? I have taken your advice when I could, I fostered this pointless relationship with the idiot boy —_

 _Don't talk about Ryad like that!_ she snapped back.  _And you can't kill my sister. And these people . . . Why can't it just go back to the way it was before?_

The shade smirked at Jaysia, but she knew the face was meant for her as well.  _Aradvkn needs us, Katia. He is trying to create a new order, and he cannot do it without his children._ That  _is what we are here for, and we will be handsomely rewarded. Have we not been already?_

Jaysia asked why she couldn't just cut their head off right then and there. The shade replied, "Your sister would not appreciate that." At those words, a look of mingled horror and despair came over her sister's face, and she leaned in until their noses were touching. Katia watched as Jaysia simultaneously put more pressure on her neck — making her feel lightheaded and faint — and studied her with the most exquisite tenderness on her face.

Katia realized how stupid she had been. How deliberately blind, how desperate to have a little taste of freedom.

 _She loves me,_ she told the shade, awestruck.  _You lied._

They were both weakening from lack of oxygen, their body managing to only catch tiny sips of air through their restricted windpipe, and the shade did not have the strength to argue. Jaysia's breath was warm against her lips as she whispered, "Do you want me to kill you?"

It was the first time a question had been directed to her in eight years. Not to her sister, not to the monster pretending to be her sister, but to her. Jaysia of all people cared about what she wanted. With the last of her strength, she tried for the first time to control her body.

The shade hadn't been expecting it, and even if it had, it was too exhausted from the battle to put up a fight. Even so, it took everything she had to shove her way to the forefront of her mind, to open her mouth and say her first real word: "Yes."


	18. Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katia makes her final request, and Nabooru's cockiness gets her into trouble.

Jaysia hadn't honestly expected to hear a response from her sister. She had hoped, prayed, but didn't think anything would come of it. Still, there was no mistake. "Katia," she breathed, sitting back slightly.

Coughing from the sudden intake of air, Katia was unable to speak. "Jay," she said as soon as her breath returned, sitting up onto her elbows (it was as much as she could manage, both in her weakened state and with Jaysia sitting on her knees). "It's going to get me again, but —"

The relief that had flooded her as soon as she recognized her sister's presence was replaced with suspicion. "How will I know?"

"It can't talk like this. I've told it time and again, but it always sounds like something much older." Pain flashed across her face, and tears filled her eyes. "Jay, I'm so sorry, I  _helped_ it, I  _liked_ having friends and I shouldn't have let it hurt you but I —"

"It's okay," she said. It wasn't, not really, but Jaysia had always felt so responsible for her little sister, and seeing her free for the first time erased any anger.

Katia shook her head. "It's not, but that's not important right now. Under the altar, there's this box full of . . . stuff. I don't even know what most of it is, but there's this necklace and I think it's important. I want you to have it. After . . . after all this."

"You're not going to die," Jaysia snapped. "This necklace, is it magic? Maybe we could —"

Katia gave her a sad smile. "Jay, you already asked what I wanted."

"But that was  _before_! Before you were you again! You can't ask me to kill my own sister!"

"I've never really been alive." Her eyes focused on something over Jaysia's shoulder. "Go. Get the necklace."

Ryad was standing over them — they all were. Impa's expression was stony, and Zelda and Daphnes were clinging to each other like they couldn't stand on their own, but Ryad glanced over his shoulder uncertainly, then nodded and hurried over to the altar, ignoring the blood as it seeped into his pants.

"She killed Sheik," Impa said, breaking the silence. Her voice was hollow, like she wasn't entirely sure what was happening.

Katia turned her head, wincing from the soreness in her neck, to meet Impa's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know him very well, but he seemed nice. I never would have . . . not if I could've helped it." Impa's jaw clenched and she looked away, a spark of pain breaking through the cold deadness in her eyes.

Ryad returned with the box, kneeling down beside Jaysia. Inside were potions of various colors, and a large emerald on a silver chain that seemed too weak to hold it. It was filled with an inner glow, like there was a torch burning inside, reflecting a gentle green light over everything. Katia jerked her chin at it and said, "It was always too heavy for me to wear, but you should take it out of here. It's too beautiful to be trapped with all this dust."

A strangled gasp burst forth from Daphnes, and he disentangled himself from Zelda to sprint to the emerald. Unbuttoning his shirt, he pulled out a necklace of his own. It was a brilliant blue, with little specks of green, purple, pink, and gray, each individual section of the stone as large as his fist. It shimmered with with the same soft light. "Where did you get this?" he demanded, his expression intense.

"I —" Her face tightened like she was in pain, and her eyes squeezed shut. "It's recovered," she hissed, her body going taut and trembling. "Jay, you have to." When her sister opened her mouth to object, she spoke the last three words she would ever say as a free woman: "Please. For me."

With that, her pupils shrank, and before Jaysia could recover, Katia shoved her away and snatched up the sword, burying it in her sister's throat.

* * *

"Nabooru? Are you awake?"

Nabooru groaned and rolled over, covering her face with her arm. "Wha?"

A tight, authorative voice ordered, "Get some water on her face. We don't want her fainting again."  _Aveni?_  Nabooru wondered, trying to sit up. But a male voice in her ear made her settle back down.

"Don't get up," Ganondorf said. "You hit your head when you fainted. You'll be all right, but you shouldn't —"

"Move." She settled back down onto her pillow with a groan. "I would love to go just a week — or even a day — without finding myself in here. Would that be too much to ask?"

"It appears to be." Suddenly there was something cool and wet placed on her forehead, covering her eyes and nose. She heard Aveni's voice again: "Nabooru, are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Confused as to what in the Goddess' name is going on, but otherwise I'm great." She decided it would be easier to get answers if she wasn't constantly trying to get out of bed, so she tried to still the restlessness in her limbs and added, "Where are my friends?"

Ganondorf sighed. "Outside. They aren't supposed to disturb you, but —"

"We wouldn't disturb her!" Krysu's voice blared through the closed door. "We want to  _help!_ " Despite herself, Nabooru was amused and touched that her best friend and rival would want to help her get better. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Krysu continued: "Besides,  _someone_ has to tell her that the new archery rankings are up. I know she would want to know exactly what place she's in, and I memorized the first ten spots."  _That_ sounded more like the Krysu she knew. (Though at least she was in the top ten. That was reassuring and a little surprising.)

"I don't —" the healer began.

Aveni rolled her eyes, climbing to her feet. "Let them in," she said. "They won't do anything to her, and if they keep screaming through the door like that, they'll keep her awake anyway." She glanced down at Nabooru and Ganondorf, her eyes moving from one to the other. "Don't make any trouble," she said. She paused, like there was something more she wanted to say, but shook her head and left without another word.

As soon as she was gone, Nabooru's friends burst into the room, crowding around her bed in a semicircle. "Brought you Leevers," Krysu said, hopping onto Nabooru's bed and dangling one in front of her nose. "Want one?"

"Get that thing away from me," she snarled, shoving Krysu off the bed — and inadvertently onto Ganondorf's lap. For a moment they froze, staring at each other in shock.

"Oh . . . I'm very sorry, Your Highness," she said softly, biting her bottom lip and looking him up and down. Still, she lingered a second too long before standing and returning to Nabooru's side, leaning over her friend with a wicked smile. "Wanna know where you are on the archery rankings?" she asked, and Nabooru could tell from her voice and expression that she was preparing to gloat.

Groaning, she turned to her other friends, who were still stunned by Krysu's intimate encounter with their king. Honestly, so was Nabooru, but she was trying as hard as she could to move past it. "Am I at least above you guys?"

"Almost!" Krysu exclaimed brightly before anyone else could reply. "You're in third place, after Jessa, Tami . . . and  _me_." From the caressing way she said her own name, Nabooru knew that Krysu had grabbed the coveted first place spot. "Amalyse was fourth, though, so there's that."

"Awesome." She rolled her eyes at Ganondorf, who couldn't seem to tell who to look at. "Anyone got some good news for me? I  _did_ almost die."

Before Krysu could remind her that she didn't even come close to dying, Aveni appeared in the doorway. "Your Majesty, there are Hylians here."

He looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Details."

"It's the king and his soldiers. We do not know more." She looked at the other girls. "You don't need to come," she told them, "but keep an ear open for the horn."

Ganondorf sighed, then turned back to Nabooru, patting her shoulder awkwardly. "Don't kill yourself while I'm gone," he said, shooting the other girls a quick, uncertain glance before returning to meet Nabooru's gaze.

She grinned. "I'll do my best, sir." Once he had left, she turned to Krysu. "Well, that was interesting," she observed, keeping her voice mild.

Krysu smiled. "Don't bullshit me. If you're mad, be mad." She glanced back at their friends, who were all looking at the floor. "We all know you better than that."

"Why would I be mad? It's not like he's mine." As she spoke, she realized that those words weren't quite true. Well, they were, but she didn't see it like that.

In her mind, the king was hers, and Krysu had no right to flirt with him, accidentally or otherwise.

Krysu raised her eyebrows, looking amused. "Oh. All right then. As long as it doesn't bother you . . ."

"If you knew it'd piss me off," she shot back, letting herself become angry, "why did you do it?"

" _You_ were the one who pushed me onto him." When Nabooru simply glared at her, she added, "Okay, I might have tried to upset you a little bit. But has it occurred to you that maybe it was for your own good?"

"How?"

"I was teaching you a lesson!" Krysu's eyes were bright, earnest, and Nabooru realized that, for the first time in their friendship, they were talking about something serious. "You care too much about him, Nabby, and you  _must_  know that. It's not good for you, and it's not good for us."

"What are you talking about?" She held up one finger. "First, I don't care about him. No more than any Gerudo cares about her king. And second" — another finger popped up next to the first — "even if I did, I don't see how it's any of your business."

"Because he's ours.  _All_ of ours. He's the only man in a hundred years, which means . . . you know." Krysu's expression was pitying, which was somehow worse than when she looked smug. When she reached forward to take Nabooru's hand, she jerked it away with a snort of indignation.

"Of course I know that!" she snapped, blushing despite herself; she'd forgotten, and remembering hurt. "I-it's not like I want to break tradition or be his queen or something. I'm not Hylian." She looked over Krysu's shoulder at the rest of the room, who were still steadfastly ignoring the conversation. "Are you guys hearing this?" For once Krysu didn't respond, and the silence grew heavier. A realization filled Nabooru with disgust and horror. "Is this an _intervention_?"

Amalyse cracked first, unsurprisingly. "We just think that you need to keep your head clear," she said, throwing her a pleading look. "You've been getting hurt a lot, and it seems like you've become more reckless than usual."

"In a lot of ways," Jessa added.

Nabooru threw her arms into the air, ignoring the pain it shot through her head. "Don't be ridiculous!" she spat, knowing that her anger was only proving their point. "I'm a daughter of the Desert Goddess, for Din's sake! I'm not some giggling schoolgirl."

"That's the problem," Krysu said, pointing a long-nailed finger at Nabooru. "You're always so overconfident, and it's going to get you hurt if you aren't careful." As she spoke, though, Nabooru caught something beneath the concern: jealousy. Despite her attempts at sincerity, part of Krysu was enjoying Nabooru's weakness, because it proved that she wasn't perfect.

At that moment, Nabooru realized what their relationship was, had always been. Krysu wasn't just her irritating, self-important sidekick; she was more ambitious than she had ever guessed, and far more clever. "You moved in on him on purpose," she said. "Not just to teach me a lesson. You want to be his favorite."

Krysu rolled her eyes, the perfect-angel veneer cracking. "What did I tell you?" she asked their friends. "Overconfident as always. More willing to believe her best friend would betray her than that she has weaknesses."

The other girls, having said their piece, were no longer willing to join this fight. "Maybe we should talk about it later, when we're all a little calmer," Amalyse said, shooting a desperate look at Tami, who had yet to weigh in. She kept her gaze on the window, watching the meeting with Ganondorf and the Hylians below.

"Maybe you should stop trying to sabotage me," Nabooru shot back, "and stop acting like I have a problem when  _she's_  just dying to screw me over!"

"Whatever," Krysu sighed, shaking her head like she was some sort of martyr. "Let's leave her alone until she calms down. We shouldn't overwork her when she's injured, anyway." She shot Nabooru another sympathetic look, but this time she saw the envy clearly behind it. "Later, Nabby."

"Please don't be mad," Amalyse said as the rest of them filed out. "We just want to help."

Nabooru didn't answer, waiting until they all left. Once she knew she was alone, she let her head fall back against the pillow, closing her eyes to shut out the brightness of the room.

Was Krysu right? Nabooru had always been confident — it was part of why she was so good at what she did. And if she was Ganondorf's favorite, what was the matter with that?  _Krysu's just jealous_ , she told herself, but while she knew that was true, she suspected that that wasn't the whole reason. Krysu  _was_ jealous, but she still cared at least a little about her; even if she didn't want to admit it, she knew that.

But what that meant was less clear. Did she have to change her personality? Her relationship with the king?

Slowly she lifted her head up. She couldn't lay here anymore, even if her head was going to fall off. "The witches," she muttered to herself. They were supposed to be wise, and there was a lot she needed answers about. She didn't know where their room was, or if it was guarded, but she decided she would deal with that when she had to.

 _Overconfident,_ her brain warned.

But she'd never listened to her brain. Why should she start now?


	19. Beginnings and Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shade makes one last stand, Ganondorf fights with his mothers, and Demi tries to figure out what the Dark Triforce is planning.

As soon as the sword passed through the back of Jaysia's mane of tangled hair, its tip dripping red, Ryad lunged forward with an inhuman scream of despair. He buried his fingers into what remained of Katia's hair, dragging her away from her sister. Unsupported, Jaysia fell to the ground and lay there in a crumpled heap, her icy eyes focused on something none of them could see.

"Wait!" Daphnes shouted, running forward with the necklaces clenched in his fist. "Do not kill her yet! I have to understand how this came into her possession! I —"

"Shut  _up_ , Your Highness!" Zelda hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him against her. "I promise, it's not worth it." The others completely ignored him, their attention focused on the shade, who was watching them all with disinterest.

"I suppose there is nothing I can say to save my own life," she told Daphnes. " _That_  was here long before the brat was. I have no idea where it could have come from."

"Who cares about a stupid necklace?" Ryad demanded. His voice and hands were shaking, but the knife he held to Katia's throat was steady enough. To the shade he growled, "I loved her."

Katia's lips twitched. "You loved  _me_." Suddenly she twisted toward him as far as she was capable, her eyes wide with innocence that was convincing. "And I loved you, Ryad. No matter what else happened, that was real." Difficult though it was to understand (let alone explain), the fact that Katia was clearly spewing lies did not make them seem any less true. It was like she could read their most desperate thoughts and emotions and twist them to her own purposes.

And how she could: for a split second the stress overcame Ryad and his resolve faltered. In that moment, Katia's hand snaked up and clutched the blade of the knife, ignoring as it dug into her fingers almost to the bone. Twisting like a cat, she shoved the knife into Ryad's thigh and rolled nimbly out of the way, springing to her feet with a speed that was shocking. Her uninjured hand ripped Jaysia's sword out of her grip and held it in front of her, looking at them all disdainfully, panting despite her efforts to look unscathed. "I have been alive for a long time," she said, "and I am not going to give that up now." Her eyes landed on Ryad, who was struggling to climb to his feet, and her lip curled. "You really  _are_ pathetic," she told him. "I had always suspected as much." She moved her gaze to Impa, who was standing stiff as a poker with her swords out, and scoffed. "If you were going to kill me, you would have by now." The shade was growing more confident — or perhaps she was just trying to buy time. "Besides, I have already destroyed three of you, and all Sheikah 'warriors.' Do you honestly believe that two Hylians and a weak little girl are going to be able to stop me, when centuries have failed to?" When Zelda and Daphnes exchanged confused looks, Katia laughed; the sound was too beautiful to come from something so evil. "Oh, right. It has only been two so far, has it not? My mistake." She kicked the still-struggling Ryad, knocking him to the ground, and slammed her sword point-down on Ryad's neck. "There we go," she said coolly, pulling the sword out with a disgusting wet sound. "That's better."

As Ryad's blood soaked into the hem of her dress, however, something in her eyes faltered. She had planned on dispatching them all quickly, while the moon was at its height and she was at her strongest. That time had now passed, and the exertion of the fight had drained her. Furthermore, the battle to take control of her body had left the shade far weaker than she had ever expected.

The blood was drying around her, congealing from the corpses she had meant to sacrifice neatly and with the proper rites. Now they were wasted — Aradvkn would consider old blood an insult and likely reward her with death if she tried to offer it to him. Her hope lay in the three remaining people in the room, and with every wasted second she grew weaker and they recovered from their shock. She could see it: the grays and blacks that curled around them like fog was lightening, and Impa's was turning an alarming shade of red. Try as she might to control the colors with her will, they were changing out of her favor.

She had lost, she realized with faint horror. With her last energy, Katia had destroyed any chance of the shade winning by weakening them both to a point beyond redemption. All this boasting did was buy time.  _Help me, Lord_ , she prayed, surveying the room and trying to look like everything was under control even as she felt their auras slip from her grasp.  _See your child. See what I have done for you and save me._

Daphnes felt a shock at the base of his skull like someone had poked him there. Coming out of the haze that had frozen them all in their tracks (and had probably been caused by what remained of the shade's power), he realized what had to be done. Though he was just as weary as the rest, he forced himself to raise his sword and run for Katia with a hoarse cry. His movements were clumsy but he managed to successfully distract the shade, and though she smiled as she prepared to run him through, he knew they had won. Just as her blade knocked his to the side, Impa was there.

Katia felt a heaviness in her gut like the wind had been knocked out of her.  _That is not right,_ she thought, staring down at the blood as it spread across her dress in a maroon stain.  _I stabbed the prince. He is supposed to be dead_. Then pain overcame her and she doubled over, watching helplessly as Impa raised her sword again to decapitate her.  _No,_ she tried to cry, but all the strength had left her and she could not draw breath.  _No, Lord!_

But Aradvkn was a harsh god, and if he heard her pleas he ignored them.

* * *

Nabooru rounded the corner and staggered, pressing a hand to her head. She was still light-headed, and though following the voices of two Gerudo guards had led her to Koume and Kotake's prison, she didn't know what to do now. Nor could she think clearly enough to figure it out. Closing her eyes, she pressed herself deeper into the shadows of the hallway until the light of the wall-torches didn't touch her.

Suddenly a crash startled her as Ganondorf stormed past, not seeing her in the shadows. He gestured to the guards angrily and they rushed to open the doors, giving Nabooru just enough time to scuttle down the hallway and hide herself behind the open door. When Ganondorf entered and it closed, the guards looked shocked to see her standing exposed against the wall. "What —" one of them (named Tika) began.

"You're not supposed to be here!" the other one, Rio, interrupted. They were both from the previous generation and had been something like aunts to her.

She gave them both her best exasperated look. "Come on, guys. Do you really want to sit here and waste time arguing, or can we just eavesdrop already?"

Tika shook her head. "Nabooru, Marisa will be very upset if she hears that you're up and about with that head injury. Neither will the king."

"If my mom cared about my injuries, she would have left the nursery to visit me." Ignoring the looks of pity that the older women gave her, she continued. "And the king is in that room, having a conversation we  _all_  want to hear." Ignoring them, she pressed her ear to the door, smirking to herself when they joined her after only a moment's hesitation.

The first thing they heard was one of the old women: "Ganondorf, we only wanted to help you."

The king's voice was cold and hard as he replied, "That's nonsense and you know it, Koume. Why won't you leave Nabooru alone?" The guards' eyes went wide at the mention of her name and she shrugged in response to their unspoken question.

The other woman — Kotake, they knew — sounded smug as she said, "To get your attention, of course."

"Then why did you come back?"

"Because you didn't respond quickly enough." She laughed, a brittle sound. "We're not very patient, son."

"Don't call me that." There was silence, and Nabooru knew that Ganondorf was trying to control his anger; in the time since she'd met him, he'd directed that kind of silence at her more than once. "What do you want?"

Kotake cackled. "Is it too much to believe that we simply wanted our little boy back?" When he didn't dignify that with a response, she added, "We had such great plans for you, Ganondorf. You were to be our king."

"And our son," Koume added, the emotion in her voice more genuine than Kotake's, though perhaps she was just better at faking it.

Whatever it was, it had a profound effect on the king. His voice trembled as he said, "Was getting captured part of your plan as well?"

"No," Kotake said. It sounded false to Nabooru's ears, and from the looks on Rio and Tika's faces, they didn't buy it, either.

"Don't mock me," Ganondorf spat. "I'm not a child."

Kotake laughed again — Nabooru wasn't the most intuitive of Gerudo, but even she was beginning to realize which of the two witches was the leader. "Of course not, son," she sneered. "You sound so grown up. You don't need us anymore."

"Not even to work magic like you've seen, I suppose," Koume said mournfully.

There was a long pause. "I don't want it," he said. "There is nothing your magic has to offer me, and you know it. Nabooru is innocent — leave her out of this!"

"No use for magic? Not even as king?" When that was met with silence, Kotake continued. "Sheikah demons can perform tricks, and even Hylians have some spells of their own. Do you  _really_ want to fall behind them in such an important skill?"

This time the silence lasted for so long that Nabooru pressed herself against the wood, straining to hear. Then the doors were thrown open with a force that slammed Rio and Tika into the walls and sent Nabooru — who'd been listening through the crack between the two doors — skidding across the floor into the opposite wall. Her head smacked against the stone and a blaze of red agony burst through her skull, though she had enough presence not to cry out even as her vision went dark.

When the blackness faded, she saw Ganondorf standing over her. His face was hard, ignoring as Tika and Rio picked themselves off the floor and hurried to their positions as though nothing had happened. Once he saw that she wasn't seriously injured, he grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her to her feet and against the wall, causing another jolt of pain to shoot through her head. "What were you doing?" he snarled.

Okay, Nabooru was as loyal to her king as any Gerudo, but this was more than she was willing to take. She was hurt, for the Desert Goddess's sake! "I was _trying_ to get answers!" she snapped back, wriggling against his grip. "In case you didn't notice, I've been the victim of some seriously messed-up magic, and no one's told me why!"

" _In case I didn't notice?!_ In case  _you_ didn't notice, I've done nothing but try to keep you safe ever since I met you! And you repay me with eavesdropping?" His fingers tightened on her arms and his voice dropped to a near-whisper. "That's dangerously close to treason, Nabooru."

She kicked him in the shin, and he dropped her, more out of surprise than pain. "I'll take my chances, Your Majesty," she shot back. Her attitude was stupid, but she couldn't help herself. "You've really moved up in the world, haven't you? Totally forgotten that this time last week you were just a skinny brat who could barely swing a stick."

His eyes narrowed. "You forget yourself," he said, all the anger carefully wrung out of his voice so that it was calm as a pool of water. Which only made it more frightening.

Not that the best fighter her age was likely to be easily frightened, nor was she going to back down after she'd already made a stand. "My apologies," she sneered, holding a hand to her head and backing away. "Still concussed, no doubt."

With that, she whirled around and strode away, waiting until she was out of his sight before breaking into a run.

_Interested in him?_ she thought, remembering Krysu's words with a snort.  _Yeah, right._

* * *

Jade still didn't like Dimitri, but at least she acted civil. While he was still bound to the house she'd done everything she could to never be around, and now that he'd been given permission to explore the grounds and town a bit (though never for long and rarely alone) she sought solace in her room or amid the sea of waist-high grass that lined the beach. He only saw her at meals, and he suspected that suited her just fine.

Suited him fine as well, in fact. He spent most of the day wandering down the beach, reading from Adela's extensive library, and talking to the old woman while she knit. She was a sweet lady, and very lonely with only Jade for company. They both enjoyed having someone to talk to.

"Jade's a good girl," Adela said one day, gently untangling a skein of yarn, "but she's in such a  _stubborn_  phase of life. All the makeup, and she refuses to do a single thing I say. Oh, she  _sounds_ polite enough, but once your back is turned she's off laying in the grass and doing who-knows-what." She frowned as an impossibly tight knot appeared in the yarn, and without taking her gaze off of it she reached for a pair of scissors. "My daughter Saphri did the same thing at her age, but that doesn't make it any less  _frustrating_."

"It happens," Demi said. He was laying on the floor with Adela's dog, scratching its stomach lazily as they talked. "I did the same thing. She's, what, fifteen? She'll grow out of it." Everyone he knew had gone through the same rebel phase: wearing their hair long (if they were boys; cutting it short if they were girls), smearing ridiculous amounts of kohl under their eyes, cramming all sorts of strange jewelry into their skin, and generally just being a bunch of stuck-up assholes. It was a fad everyone went through to some extent.

Everyone, that was, except Zelda.

Shaking the thought of her out of his head, he returned to the topic at hand. "Your daughter's much less of a monster than I was."

Adela laughed. "I can't imagine you being difficult," she said, looking at him fondly. "You're such a polite young man." Before he could reply — but what would he have said, really?  _"Yeah, for a murderer I'm a swell guy"_? — she continued, "I just cannot wait until she gets a little more mature. Saphri grew into a wonderful woman. The two of us became such friends . . ." Her eyes suddenly misty, Adela shook her head and turned toward the window, gazing out into the gray sky. "But I'm sure Jade will get there eventually."

Demi was dying to ask what had happened to the old woman's other daughter, but though he'd hinted at it before, she'd never been willing to discuss Saphri in detail. Looking around his room, he'd found some clues as to Saphri's personality: under his bed were trunks filled to bursting with clothes, all frillier and brighter than anything he'd ever seen Jade wear, and there were leather-bound books stacked in piles along every wall. He'd picked a few up and flipped through them during the nights and discovered they were journals, pages upon pages covered in detailed descriptions of the plants, animals, and even rocks that dotted the shores of Gish. It seemed Saphri was a girly scientist, which was interesting, but didn't explain where she was now, or why her presence still hung over the house like a fog.

Before he could pursue or change the subject, Adela turned back to him, smiling as though nothing had happened. "Speaking of my wayward daughter," she said brightly, "you ought to go find her. It looks like a storm is coming, and she shouldn't be out there in it."

Dimitri climbed to his feet obediently, wondering (not for the first time) why he hadn't heard that now-familiar voice in his head for days. It had ordered him awake, but now that he was on the mend, it had allowed him to loiter in the house for nearly two weeks. He suspected it was waiting for him to build up enough strength to . . . what, exactly? Demi knew what  _he_  wanted to do: jump into the nearest boat and row to Hyrule. Find Zelda and declare his love for her. Make her realize her love for him and live happily ever after. Maybe the Dark Triforce could even remain in him, if he learned how to control it better. Besides, he could probably convince Zelda that she was overreacting. This thing wasn't so bad as long as he didn't get too weak. Weakness allowed it to control him, and that resulted in murder, but as long as Demi remained strong it wouldn't hurt him. _  
_

It wasn't so bad, not really, he thought, kicking up sand as he strolled down the beach. If it left him alone the way it had for the last few weeks, he might even find himself missing it a little.

It might be insane, but it gave good advice.

_Maybe that's what it's been doing_ , a voice whispered in his ear. Not the Dark Triforce, however. This was a voice he hadn't heard since his fingers first closed around the neck of a middle-aged fisherman in a rowboat, what felt like years ago. His conscience continued,  _Maybe it's making you think it isn't so bad. So that you won't fight it anymore._

"Please," he muttered, watching a stand of grass move in the quickening wind. "I'm not that gullible."

_We'll see._


	20. Dust and Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to move on.

Ganondorf didn't bother punishing the two guards for eavesdropping, as it was clearly her fault. However, he gave them both a sharp reprimand, and the look on their faces — a combination of shame and fear, hidden under a mask of emotionless obedience — was enough to satisfy him that they wouldn't go against his orders again. Nabooru was another story, and if he didn't make sure she was punished (and publicly), it would cast a shadow over his ability to rule. He shouldn't have allowed their friendship to get this close; it made an already cocky girl insolent and inappropriately familiar, and it caused talk.

 _She's not the only one affected,_ a voice whispered in his head. It sounded like Kotake.  _You're compromised just as much as she is._ _  
_

He pushed this thought out of his head, pausing outside the door to the infirmary. There were a group of girls huddled there, whispering to one another. _Nabooru's friends_ , he realized, trying to remember their names. "What's this?" he asked, striding up to them as though nothing was wrong. "Is she in there?"

The woman who'd fallen into his lap looked up at him cautiously. "Your Majesty," she said, bowing as he struggled in vain to remember her name. "I'm afraid she's gone." Krysta? Kresu?

The youngest girl — Amalyse, the one he remembered because he worried she wasn't warrior material — blurted out, "We didn't mean to make her run, sire! We got into a fight and left, but when we came back . . ." She bit her lip and cringed, looking as though she expected him to hit her.

"Do you know where she is?"

This question was met with silence, the girls shifting nervously and debating whether they were more loyal to their friend or their king. Finally Krysta-Kresu said, "We didn't see  _her_ , exactly, but as we came up the hall we saw someone round the corner over there." She pointed toward the end of the hallway, where a small tunnel led to the library, cafeteria, and front gate. "It might've been her, but we couldn't tell."

It was a start. He fixed them all with his steeliest glare, trying to look imposing. "I want you to split up and search the Fortress. Tell anyone who asks that she is injured and needs to be recovered, and that she is wanted for questioning by the king. I'll look for her outside."

"But there's a sandstorm!" Amalyse exclaimed, her childlike face filled with horror. "You can't go out there!"

Kry-something rolled her eyes at Amalyse's hysterics, but agreed. "You'd have to be crazy to go out in that, sire."

"Oh?" He gave them a smile. "Then that's most likely where she is, wouldn't you say?"

* * *

Dimitri finally found Jade just as the rain began to fall. She was lying in the sand with the grass swaying above her, staring up at the sky. She jumped when he approached, pulling her knees up to her chest and glaring at him through the kohl smeared around her eyes. She looked like a feral raccoon: scared and wild, but not particularly dangerous. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

He held up his hands and stepped back to show that he meant no harm. "Adela said —"

"Oh, right.  _She_ wants me to get out of the storm before the rain ruins my pretty dress." She scowled and climbed to her feet, skirting away from his offered hand as though it were a knife. The comment was clearly sarcastic; Jade's dress looked like it had once been pretty, but it had been poorly dyed black and the hem, sleeves, and neckline had been cut up into messy geometric shapes. The effect was supposed to be cool and perhaps sexy, but it looked like she'd pulled the dress through a meat grinder and then just thrown it on.

"Why do you call her that?" he asked. "Always ' _she'_."

Jade didn't look like she wanted to respond, but as the rain fell in fatter and faster drops and the house remained too far away to run, she realized she didn't have a choice. "We don't get along," she muttered, running a hand through the inky spikes of her hair. "I don't like to think of her as my mother."

He appreciated that she was bothering to talk to him, though he had to stop himself from shaking his head. "You're lucky to have her," he said, trying to keep the preachiness out of his voice and failing. "She clearly adores you."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. She adored  _Saphri._  Me, she's stuck with because she accidentally got knocked up again after having her perfect child. Not that I blame Sap. It's not her fault she was so cool . . . and she always treated me like an adult. Which is more than I can say for  _her_." Jade shot him a sideways glance, one that was as interested as it was distrustful.  _Rebels love a bad boy_ , he thought, amused, and wondered how long she'd been giving him those looks. "Besides, don't you think a creepy demon guy like you shouldn't go around giving advice? What do  _you_  know about parents?"

"I'm not a demon," he said, irritated despite himself.  _Just possessed by an artifact imbued with the spirit of the demon-god Aradvkn, that's all._ "And I don't know much about parents, considering they died when I was younger."

Jade had enough empathy to look ashamed at that. "Sorry," she muttered, clearly resenting the connection they were making but unable to stop pitying him. Or being interested, he noticed as her eyes returned to his before darting away again.

"It's fine," he said, keeping his voice cool and his eyes fixed on the sea. He was flattered by Jade's attention and couldn't help encouraging it. "I just think you should appreciate what you have."

He didn't know if she'd realized that the aloof-guy attitude was an act, but it seemed to be working. "Just consider yourself lucky," Jade said, shaking her head and sounding almost wistful. Companionable, anyway, which was better than he'd gotten ever since he'd arrived. "Not having to constantly feel like you're second-best or a disappointment must be nice."

 _Not exactly._  "Tell me about Saphri," he said, wincing as a crack of thunder shattered the sky and they stepped onto the front porch of Adela's sprawling home.

Either his timing was bad or his question was, for her face closed off. "That's none of your business," she said, jerking away from him as he reached to open the door. She slipped inside, making sure not to touch even his dripping shirt, then looked him up and down. The interest was still there, but it was buried under hostility. "I still don't trust you," she said coldly.

He nodded, more surprised than anything else. "That's probably good," he said, not realizing that that only made him seem more intriguing in her eyes (though if he had, he wouldn't have minded). "See you at dinner, Jade." They turned and went in opposite directions — Jade to parts unknown, and Dimitri to Adela in the living room. She smiled as he entered, holding out a ball of yarn to him. He took it and turned it as she knit, saying, "She's not happy, but she's inside."

Adela laughed, her fingers moving nimbly as she worked. "She never is. Didn't give you too much of a hard time, did she?"

He paused, thinking about the fire in her dark red eyes, the desperate attempts at badassery that were painfully transparent, the sullenness that was annoying but also slightly cute. "No," he said slowly, thinking about how nice it was to be the recipient of a crush — especially this one, with a sheen of reluctant antagonism that reminded him so much of Zelda. "No, she's fine."

* * *

The storm  _was_  bad, Ganondorf had to admit, trying in vain to shield his face from the sand, and it was only going to get worse. It had been stupid to come out here by himself, but damned if he was going to return to the Fortress empty-handed. "Nabooru!" he shouted, his mouth filling with sand and making him feel like he was suffocating. He untied the bandanna that he'd wrapped around his head and tied it around his face. As soon as it was freed, his long red hair tangled into a sandy mat, but at least he could breathe somewhat. "NABOORU!"

It was almost impossible to get his bearings, but he'd spent enough time wandering around the desert to guess where he was. After what felt like an eternity of struggling through the sand, he saw that he was near where he'd first met Nabooru, which meant that his old home was around here somewhere. It wouldn't be as protected from elements now that the witches' magic was gone from it, but it was better than nothing. If his friend had an ounce of common sense, that's where she would have headed.

Just as he thought he saw the blurry outline of the shack, the wind picked up, obscuring everything more than a foot or two away. The sand hitting his skin was more painful as well, like he was being swarmed by thousands of stinging insects. "Goddess-damn it, Nabooru," he muttered as he closed his eyes and concentrated, then snapped. He curled his other hand around the small blue flame that leapt up between his fingers, though it didn't need protection from the wind; it would not go out until he broke his focus.

Ganondorf could feel the glee of his mothers and knew they sensed his magic from their prison.  _Nothing our magic can offer, eh? We will remember this, son._

Before he could wonder whether that voice was his imagination or not, a hand closed around his arm with a callused iron grip, nearly dragging him off his feet and behind the scant shelter of a cactus. "SON OF A BITCH!" someone shouted, and then he was whirled around to face a dark blur. He lifted his hands to fight, but lowered them as the shadow put its free hand on its hip and said, "Are you a  _complete_ idiot?!" That voice, the pose, the brief glint of gold from behind its mask . . . He recognized Nabooru, and the flame on his fingertips died.

"What are you doing here?" he yelled over the wind, looking at her outfit with envy. She'd been hard to recognize because she was wrapped in a dark brown cloak that covered her entire body while a mesh mask protected her face. It was one of hundreds of storm uniforms, and as the wind whipped needle-like sand against his body he wished he'd thought to bring one.

" _Me?_  What about you?" As though reading his mind, she pulled another cloak out from under hers. She tried to shield him with her body as he struggled into the uniform, but they were both coated in sand by the time he pulled the mask over his face.

He spit a mouthful of sandy hair out of his face and snapped, "I was looking for you!"

She shook her head and he realized that he missed watching her ponytail whip around her face when she did that. "And  _I_ was in the library, you moron! I wasn't gonna go outside in a storm like this!" Nabooru stepped closer so that he could better hear her, tilting her head back until her chin was almost touching his chest. "Did you seriously think to look  _outside_  before checking the library for me?"

"You don't mean . . ."

She rolled her eyes. "Can we get out of this storm before talking about how stupid you are?" she asked. "And bring that light back, it was cool."

Embarrassed that he had somehow forgotten the danger they were in, Ganondorf flushed and looked around, snapping his fingers again. To his horror, he realized that the wind had rearranged the dunes and obscured their vision to the point that he no longer knew where he was. "Are you as lost as I am?" he shouted. She nodded and he took her hand, picking a direction at random and plowing through drifts of sand that came up to their knees.

It was slow going, as the sand made it difficult to see and walk and they couldn't risk falling down; they'd be buried before they could get back on their feet. Furthermore, they kept stopping for as long as they could (only a few seconds before the sand piled up against their legs) to look around for any signs of shelter. It was during one of these pauses that Ganondorf spotted a dark blur out of the corner of his eye. Tightening his grip on Nabooru's hand, he fought through the sand toward it. As the blur grew larger and more defined, he found himself hoping that it was the Fortress.

It was a cave, actually, and they collapsed inside with relief. "So are they going to kick me out for being too dumb to rule?" he asked, touching the flame to a piece of driftwood that had blown in from the storm. As it caught alight, he let the fire die from his fingertips, watching with amusement the awe on Nabooru's face.

Not that she would admit she was impressed, of course. She deliberately ignored the fire, though her eyes kept darting back to it. "They don't know," she said, pulling her mask off and pushing back the hood of her uniform to shake out her hair. When she was met with stunned silence, she added, "Well,  _I_ knew you were an idiot, but I didn't want the rest of the Fortress to find out. That'd hurt their morale. So I decided to sneak out as soon as I overheard Krysu and Tami talking about it." She smirked. "Besides, I thought since you were so mad at me earlier, I oughta do something to make you owe me."

Ganondorf took off his own mask and hood, wincing at the mess that was his hair. Nabooru slipped behind him and started combing it with her fingers, her touch surprisingly gentle as she worked the sand and tangles out of it. "Is this going to become blackmail?"

She chuckled, the sound sending chills down his spine. "Not a bad idea . . . but that's  _dangerously_  close to treason, so I was thinking instead we could just call ourselves even."

He smiled. "Even," he agreed, knowing that letting Nabooru go without some kind of punishment would make him look weak and not caring. His scalp kept tingling as her fingers worked through his hair, and when her pinky brushed against the back of his neck, he jumped like she'd bitten him.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

Suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable, he climbed to his feet, wincing as her fingers got caught in the snarls that remained. "Fine," he said, not looking at her. Casting about desperately for a change in topic, he asked, "Wanna see where this cave goes?"

She glanced outside at the storm, which wasn't abating, and stood as well, grabbing his arm as she tripped over her cloak. When she righted herself she was blushing, and Ganondorf suspected it wasn't wholly from embarrassment. "Go where?" she asked gruffly, stamping out the fire. "It doesn't go anywhere."

"Actually . . ." He shoved aside a rock to reveal a partially-hidden tunnel that led underground. It was a rock he'd put there, though it looked like it had been moved many times since. "I used to wander the desert a lot as a kid and found this maybe a year ago." He glanced over at her and grinned. "Not bad for a skinny brat with a stick, huh?"

She groaned. "How long before I live that one down?" He shrugged and she stuck out her tongue, peering into the tunnel. "And you're not  _too_ skinny anymore, at least. You've bulked up a little." Shooting him a brief, appreciative glance, she added, "So what's down there?"

He led the way into the tunnel, snapping his fingers again to give them some light. "Have you ever heard of a Moblin?"

* * *

"Is it really gone?" Zelda asked.

"It should be," Daphnes said, fumbling at his shirt and hissing in pain. "Shades cannot survive for long outside of hosts, and it is nowhere near strong enough to overpower even a small child. You saw how we were able to break out of its hold." Despite the pain in his abdomen, he managed a small, reassuring smile. "And the longer it spends without a body, the weaker it will get. It will fade away before leaving these caverns, I am certain."

Zelda stepped closer to him, helping him lift his shirt. Katia's blade had gone wild as Impa attacked her, and she had barely grazed the prince's stomach. It would leave a scar, but not a terribly noticeable one. Her fingers brushed the wound and he gasped through his teeth. " _You_ broke us out of it," she said. "I couldn't even move. It was like being stuck in a fog."

"Don't feel bad, Zel. It was using our emotions against us. Shock, grief, exhaustion . . . those are draining at the best of times, and the shade was skilled at manipulation." He looked at Impa, who was still staring down at Katia's body. "There was nothing we could have done differently."

"So many opportunities to kill her," Impa muttered. "They didn't have to die."

He left Zelda and put his hand on the Sheikah's shoulder, feeling somewhat awkward but feeling it was his duty. He  _was_ a prince, after all. "The shade was old," he told her. "It was strong, and they weakened it." Impa tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened and kept her in place, forcing her to meet his eyes. "They saved our lives."

Her jaw tightened, but finally she nodded and he dropped his arm. For a minute they just stared at each other, unsure what to say, but they were distracted by a barking laugh from Zelda. She had sunk into a kneeling position on the floor, her arms wrapped around her stomach and her gaze on Katia. "It's over," she said. "Kind of anticlimactic, when you think about it." She looked up at them, tears in her eyes. "How many days do you think it's been?"

"Zel," Daphnes began, but she continued talking as though she didn't hear him.

"Is there even a world up there anymore?" She looked around, scanning the carnage around her. "How can there be a world, when things like this happen?" A shrill giggle bubbled up through her lips, though her eyes were full of desperate horror. "I'm hungry."

"She's hysterical," Impa said, shoving aside her own grief and crouching down next to Zelda as protectiveness took over. "It's shock. Now that it's all over . . ." She gently put her hand under her friend's chin, tilting it up and accidentally smearing it with the blood of herself, Sheik, and Katia. "You're okay, Zel," she said, even though that was clearly a lie. She followed it up with more obvious bullshit: "It's all right now."

Zelda met her gaze, the laughter dying at her friend's touch. "How can I be hungry?" she whispered.

Impa didn't know how to answer that question, so she turned instead to Daphnes. "She can't go back to the castle, especially not like this," she said. "I'll take care of her, I promise."

"But I —"

She shook her head. "You wanna be useful? Go back to the castle and convince your parents that she didn't kidnap you and shouldn't be arrested or executed. And if you hear something about two Sheikah prisoners causing a breach in the dungeon security . . . try not to pay attention, okay? And maybe soften the blow a little. We never meant to hurt anyone." Her gaze drifted over to Sheik's body and her face tightened. "I know he didn't."

That probably should have alarmed him, but he was too overwhelmed by everything else that had happened. "I will send for her when things calm down," he said, watching Zelda and desperately wishing he could stay with her.

"Good. Take care of yourself too, Your Highness." She gently wiped Zelda's cheeks dry, a look of surprising tenderness on her face. "I'll look after her."

"Who will look after  _you_ , Miss Impa?"

She shook her head. "Just Impa. And I'm fine." Another lie.

"That cannot be true." When she didn't reply, he added, "Come, let us get out of here." While Impa helped Zelda to her feet, he picked up Sheik with a gentleness that moved her, though he clearly had trouble with the boy's weight. "I will send guards back for the others," he said, "and to properly deal with these artifacts." He didn't explain why Sheik was more important than the rest; he didn't have to. "But first, does he have any family?"

"You will  _not_ send guards clomping around here. This is for the Sheikah to deal with." He conceded once she agreed to let him peruse the books and make copies for the royal library. "And yeah, he has a sister. Tia. I'll take you to her."

"Thank you very much, Mi — Impa." They walked back through the maze of tunnels in silence, following the path that Daphnes had taken. Finally he said, "Listen, you clearly mean very much to Zelda, and you saved our lives countless times today. I want you to know that there is nothing in my power that I will not do to repay such a debt. Please, just ask. And do not say you are fine," he added as she opened her mouth. "Everyone needs someone to give them aid."

"I had someone. He's dead now." There was a small grunt as Daphnes shifted Sheik's weight in his arms, and she fought back tears. "Thank you, Your Highness."

She couldn't see him in the darkness of the tunnels, but she could feel the prince's weak smile. "Just Daphnes."


	21. Slow Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri gets closer to his hosts, and Zelda returns to the castle.

_Power_. The woman's voice reminded Ganondorf of his mothers. Not on the surface, of course — it was husky and rich instead of shrieking, and ages younger — but there was something hovering below its outward sense of calm. A ferocity. Anger.

He had been asleep (it was the heat of the day, and only the guards were awake), and when his vision was suddenly blinded with white and red, he'd assumed it was part of a very strange dream. It wasn't until he woke up and saw the glowing gold triangle on his hand that he realized it had been something more. Even hours later, as he ducked and twisted his way down the narrow stone tunnel of the cave, he couldn't get it out of his mind. "Does the Desert Goddess prophecy through dreams?" he whispered to Nabooru as they followed the tunnel deeper into the earth.

She wrinkled her nose, looking spectral in the light of his blue flames. "I don't think so . . ." she murmured. "But I never really studied her. She's just kinda . . . there."

"Can you think of anything related to a golden triangle?" His knowledge of the goddess Eliena — dare not speak her name aloud — was limited to what Koume and Kotake had told him in between chores and magic lessons.

"Triangle?" Nabooru shrugged, then hissed in pain as she banged her head against an outcropping of rock. "Sounds more like the Triforce to me. You know, the three sisters and their relic?" When he just gave her a blank looked, she sighed. "Right. Forgot you don't know anything. So the Desert Goddess has four siblings," she continued quickly, before Ganondorf could take offense. "All five of them created the universe, and then split it up into sections to create and rule. There's three sisters . . . Din, Nayro, and Farol, I think. We used to study them a lot so we could better understand traders from Hyrule, but since trading's gone downhill, we've slacked off. But anyway, they're the only ones Hylians really acknowledge, because they're the ones who created mainland Hyrule and all those little northern islands. And then the Desert Goddess was given Ryia and made all this  _lovely_ sand —" She started to roll her eyes, then remembered who she was talking about and hastily added, "which we are extremely grateful for, because the Desert Goddess has always taken care of us and we owe so much to her wisdom and charity, and she  _generously_  allows us to worship her as long as we don't say her name, even though we're technically part of Hyrule and thus not worthy to even speak of her." She flashed him a thumbs-up, still looking sheepish, and for a moment they both stood quietly, hoping that Eliena would accept her flattery and not rain awful death upon them. When things seemed safe, Nabooru said, "And then there's the brother, who created Democres."

"Democres?"

"Wow, you  _really_  don't know anything, do you? Those are the lands to the south. Very dark and scary . . . we don't have anything to do with them, and neither does Hyrule. They're . . . I don't even know anything about them. Nobody does. It's that shadowy part at the bottom of the maps, all vague and featureless because no one tries to go there." She shook her head. "I hear even the south of Ryia is a little twisted from being so close to them, and almost no one sails near the southern islands anymore.  _Not that there's anything wrong with Democres_ ," she added loudly; even though they were safe on the border of the Desert Goddess's territory, it was never smart to insult any of the heavenly siblings. Not to mention that Eliena and her brother were supposed to be  _extremely_  close (some stories suggested that they were lovers). "And the god's name . . . uh, it's something like Arad-vikken. Vukkin? It's a Democren name, and nobody can pronounce those."

"And the Triforce?" he asked, bringing her back to the topic at hand.

"Oh, right! So the sisters" (in Ryia and the Gerudo Fortress, "the sisters" meant the three Hyrulian goddesses, as everyone was spoken of in relation to Eliena) "apparently created this weird relic thing called the Triforce that's supposed to grant wishes or some nonsense like that. It's like this big yellow triangle thing . . . wait, no, it's  _three_ triangles, and they each stand for something. Wisdom, I think, and bravery, and . . ."

His hand clenched into a fist. "Power?"

"Yeah, that's it!" She shot him a sideways glance. "Good guess. So I have no idea where the Triforce is or if it's even real, but that's the legend as I remember it." She stepped forward, trying to see his face in the firelight. "Does that answer your question?"

"It might," he said lightly. "I was just curious about something I'd read."  _The Triforce,_  he thought, looking down at his hand as though expecting to see the triangle reappear.  _Interesting._ _  
_

 _You shall have great power,_ the voice had said. And what he could do with that power . . . he'd reopen trade with Hyrule, for one. Carve out a living that didn't involve scrabbling in the sand and choking down nothing but Leevers for months on end. Never have to live in fear of the walking shadows with red eyes that skulked about the Hylians and kept them in the desert.

He was the king of the most powerful warriors in the world, loyal servants of the Desert Goddess. And kings don't get pushed around.

_You shall have great power._

Rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand, he murmured, "I shall."

* * *

The sister, Tia, took the news well. Surprisingly well. Her eyes never left Daphnes, who had to use all of his fortitude to keep from shrinking under her emotionless stare, and her expression was cold as stone and as difficult to read. As he fumbled through his apologies and explained that, yes, the body over his shoulder really  _was_  her older brother, but he could not go into detail as to what had happened because there was too much to sort through, though the parties responsible had been —

"I don't care." Her voice was as empty as her face, cutting off his stuttering monologue. "Can I see him?"

"I . . . of course." As carefully and tenderly as he could, he lowered Sheik to the table, wondering vaguely about hygiene before deciding that this wasn't the time to worry about it. The body was wrapped in the cleanest linen he could find in the altar room, and the whispering sound it made as he uncovered the boy's face was the only noise. Unsure what to say but desperately wanting to somehow make things right, he murmured "I am terribly sorry" again as though that was supposed to mean anything.

A strangled noise bubbled from Tia's throat, but her face was as blank as ever as she trailed her fingers over the cold face of her brother. "Thank you," she whispered. Her entire face spasmed and nearly crumpled, but she fought it back, her lips tightening into a thin line. "You should go see how your friend is doing. The blonde girl."

"Yes. Thank you. I shall and . . . I am sorry. Again." Relieved to have an escape from this situation, he turned to go — but stopped at the last moment.

Tia's eyebrows shot up. "Is there anything I can do for you, Your Highness?"

"Yes. I — I sincerely apologize for the imposition, but . . ." Running one hand through his hair and wincing at how the movement tugged at the cut on his stomach, he reached into his shirt with his other hand and pulled out the Kokiri Emerald. "Do you have any idea where this came from?"

Her grief receding slightly by the distraction, she narrowed her eyes and leaned in to get a better look at the stone. "I might have learned about it somewhere," she said hesitantly. "But I don't remember. . . . My mind is elsewhere, Your Highness."

He flushed bright red. "Of course. Forgive me. I will leave you now." Cringing inwardly, he hurried out of the room and up to Sheik's bedroom, where Zelda had been taken.

Impa was sitting at the foot of the bed, one hand resting on Zelda's forehead, the other idly tossing a metal star into the air and catching it. Daphnes flinched every time it came down, sure it was going to hurt someone, but the Sheikah's fingers were far too skilled for that; she had caught it and deftly flicked it back into the air before he could catch his breath. "She'll be okay," Impa said, not looking up as he slipped into the room. "She's strong, and sleeping will do a world of good."

"Thank the goddesses." He sat down next to her and for a moment they sat in silence, watching Zelda sleep. "What about you?"

There was a beat of silence. "I think the pressure of the last couple weeks has finally taken its toll on her," she continued as though he hadn't spoken. "It has been quite traumatic, and that thing with her brother can't have helped."

"Enough about Zelda." Impa looked up at him in surprise, and even he was shocked that those words would ever pass his lips. But as king, his job was to care for those who needed it, and of the two silvery-haired women in the room, only one was in serious trouble. "I am concerned about you. I would endeavor to do anything that might be of assis —"

"Thank you, Your Majesty, but I'm really fine." She set the metal star on the bedside table and stood. "The alarm needs to be sounded. I'll round up some of the elders and we'll begin dealing with . . . with the room. If we learn anything important, I'll let you know."

"How long will you insist upon lying?" When she didn't answer, keeping her gaze on the floor, he added, "I only wish to help, Impa."

Her jaw tightened and she finally met his gaze. "Did it ever occur to you that all I want is for people to leave me alone?" Watching Daphnes' eyes widen, she softened a bit and added, "Your kindness is appreciated, Your Highness. When Zel wakes up, I'll have someone take her up to the castle."

"Th-thank you." He rose to his feet, squeezing Zelda's hand gently before leaving the room and shutting the door gently. Inclining his head, he said, "If there is anything you require, I am here."

She smiled tightly, bowing in return. "I know, Your Highness." She glanced back at the closed door of Sheik's bedroom. "That's why I don't worry about  _her_."

* * *

Dinner was always an awkward affair, considering Jade would do everything in her power to ignore both Dimitri and Adela. The latter was comfortable with this, it seemed, and spent most of the time speaking pleasantly to him about anything and nothing. Caught between the two, Demi focused mostly on his food, always aware of the eyes boring into the side of his head from Jade's direction.

That evening he was determined to avoid anything about Saphri, since it was clearly a sore subject, and was unusually talkative. He told Adela (and technically, Jade) about Piquo: his grandfather, his friends, the stupid things they had done . . . anything that popped into his head and ate up the silent intensity the black-haired girl was shooting in his direction.

He'd just finished talking about the time that he and his best friend had accidentally blown up a fishing barge trying to set off fireworks. Adela laughed, patting her mouth delicately with a lacy napkin that was more holes than fabric. "I cannot believe that you would do something like that," she said, shaking her head.

He shrugged. "Well, my friend's girlfriend wanted to see fireworks, and . . . you know, anything to impress a girl." As he spoke he couldn't resist glancing in Jade's direction, smiling inwardly as she looked away, flushing red and biting her lower lip with those gigantic front teeth.

When she looked up and caught him watching, her eyes narrowed and she shoved her plate away. "I'm done," she snapped, awkwardly climbing to her feet. "I'm going out."

Adela's eyes flickered with hurt, but she smiled and said, "I hope you have a good time. Don't be too late." Rolling her eyes, Jade nodded and stomped out of the house. Turning back to Demi, the mother said mildly, "You could be kinder to her, you know," popping a cherry tomato into her mouth.

Now it was  _his_  turn to blush. "I didn't think that would happen," he replied honestly. "I was just —"

"Enjoying being admired." When he spluttered to a halt, she met his gaze. Was she  _smirking?_  Shocked, he couldn't even defend himself as she continued. "I understand, dear. I was young once too. But she is my daughter, so I must ask you to treat her gently. She's young and foolish, as most girls are. And she has so few friends . . . I hear the way the town speaks of her, and I worry about people taking advantage of her innocence."

His mouth fell open, and he was suddenly more ashamed of flirting than of anything else he'd ever done. "What? I-I would never . . ."

"I never thought you would," she interrupted, turning back to her food, "but my Jade is awfully naive. I wish Saphri were here to steer her in the right direction, but that isn't possible." Her eyes caught his again, pinning him to his chair with the sheer force of her gaze. "Do not think," she said slowly and softly, "that I won't do everything in my power to defend my daughter. She fears you as much as she desires you. I do neither." She beamed at him and rang a little bell for dessert, and he realized with awe that everything about her speech — every pause, every glance down at her food and back up again, every smile, every change in her tone — were being carefully manipulated for maximum impact. "I do not fear you, Dimitri," she added, nodding thanks to the serving girl and shooing her out of the room with her fingers. "Remember that."

He realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut, picking up his fork and staring at the pie in front of him. Though it looked delicious, he'd suddenly lost his appetite. For a moment he stared at his plate, hoping the Dark Triforce would give him a suggestion, some way to get out of this conversation, which had rapidly spiraled out of his control. When his relic was silent, he said the only thing that seemed acceptable: "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." She took a large, calculated bite of dessert and sat back. "I'm glad we were able to have this conversation, dear. You're a nice young man, even with that strange mark on your hand."

"Um. Thanks." He stood, about to excuse himself and rush out of the house.

"Oh, and Dimitri?" The words stopped him in his tracks, and he turned back to her.

"Yes?"

Adela's eyes were suddenly serious, though she continued to play with her food like nothing was wrong. "Don't trust Aradvikken," she said, butchering the name as all Hyrulians did. "He is crueler than the goddesses, and whatever business you have with him is . . ." Her eyes strayed to his hand again, and her face twitched despite her attempts to keep it implacable. "Dangerous."

"Thank you, ma'am." He turned to go, but stopped at the last minute. "If you find me so dangerous, why are you letting me stay here unguarded?"

" _You're_ not dangerous, Dimitri. That mark on your hand might be, but I believe I can handle you." She laughed lightly. "And my dear, what makes you think you're unguarded?"

* * *

When Zelda woke up, there were tears on her cheeks and she couldn't remember where they'd come from. She'd had a dream, she remembered, sitting up slowly and wincing as every muscle in her body protested. Something sad, about Demi, and an altar . . . and Sheik.

It all came roaring back to her, and she pressed her forehead against her knees, wrapping her arms around them. Poor Sheik. Poor, poor Impa.

 _Impa._ Scrambling out of bed, she realized with a jolt that she was in Sheik's bedroom. She pushed that to the side, feeling sick, and staggered to the door. "Impa?" she called. "Are you there? I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you. . . ." Her voice sounded weak and pathetic even to her own ears, and as she made her way down the hall, she felt like she was too feeble at the moment to do anything. "Impa?"

"Hey." Tia appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Her face was thin and wan, her eyes redder than usual and underlined with dark circles. She had pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, and it looked like it hadn't been washed in days. With a pang, Zelda noticed that she was still wearing Sheik's shirt. "Impa isn't here."

"Oh." Zelda shuffled awkwardly. "Are you —"

"I'm fine." She glanced down at herself and reached inside her shirt, pulling a piece of paper out of her bra. "This is for you. Order of Hyrule or something."

"Thank you." Taking it, she quickly glanced over the contents, forcing her sleepy mind to take in the delicate, loopy script.  _Daphnes writes like a girl_ , she thought with a smile, then wiped it off her face guiltily.  _The crown prince of Hyrule, with the permission of the king, has granted full pardon and remission to one Miss Zelda of Piquo, and all instances herein are to be eradicated from public memory . . ._  Then followed a list of everything she'd done since her arrival, including a few offenses that were really Sheik and Impa's fault. "I can go back," she murmured, tracing her finger over the words. "I'm pardoned."

"Yeah, the messenger said His Highness wanted you back at the castle." She paused. "The prince, I mean. Not the king. I mean, I guess he doesn't care either way, but . . ." She trailed off, quickly wiping her eyes with her oversized sleeve.

"How long have I been asleep?"

Tia looked at her blankly. "Hours? Days? I don't think it's been too long . . . they've taken the body, but no funeral arrangements yet. I have to get on that." Her voice was vague and distant, like she had been woken from a deep sleep and wasn't quite sure whether she was still dreaming. "Impa hasn't come back yet. She went away, somewhere." Her eyes floated back up to Zelda's face, her brow furrowing like she'd forgotten the Hylian was there. "Do you need food?"

"No, Tia." She patted the young girl's arm, leading her into the kitchen and sitting her down in a chair. "What about you? I can make tea . . . I'm a decent cook. . . ." Uncertain about where anything was, she began opening and closing cupboards, sighing at the lack of ingredients. Apparently Sheik hadn't been very good at keeping house. "I'll just see what I can find here —"

"I'm fine," Tia said again. "I'm not hungry."

Zelda's shock and grief were still there, but after her rest and in the face of Tia's struggles, they had faded into background noise. "What can I do to help?" she asked.

Tia chuckled hollowly. "You and the prince," she muttered, "you're the same. Asking all the same questions." Ignoring Zelda's questioning look, she continued, "You need to go. They're expecting you at the castle. There's a guy . . . he's waiting outside to take you back."

"What?" Snapping to attention, Zelda glanced at the door. "Out there? How long has he been waiting?"

Tia shrugged. "Said he had orders not to wake you up, or leave without you. Said he brought cards to keep entertained, and food. You should go."

Zelda didn't want to leave Tia alone, and she  _really_  didn't want to go anywhere without seeing Impa, but the thought of that guard waiting filled her with guilt. And Daphnes . . . she missed him. What she really wanted was to find the prince and hug him, let him hold her until she wasn't so tired and sad and confused about everything. "It's been a hell of a couple days." Shaking her head, she realized that she'd actually been in Hyrule for almost a month.  _Time flies._

"Yeah," Tia murmured, and Zelda scolded herself for being so self-centered.

Placing her hand over the girl's, she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Tia. He was a good guy." A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it, knowing that the last thing Tia would want was to comfort a stranger in the middle of her own grief.

She looked away. "You should go."

Zelda remembered Impa saying something about how the Sheikah had been taught to never show pain in front of others, and wondered if they all wanted to be left alone when things got bad. "Okay. Uh, thanks for letting me stay here. Bye." Uncomfortable, relieved, and ashamed at her relief, she slipped outside, smiling at the guard who was sitting on the ground outside the house. "I'm Zelda," she said as brightly as she could, holding out one hand. "Could you tell me what day it is?"

* * *

Jade had taken shelter in the reeds again, huddled in the damp sand and piling it up over her bare feet. She relished that her dress was getting sandy, and in a fit of spite rubbed a handful into her short hair, tossing her head and grinning. " _Saphri_ never came home with sandy hair," she mumbled to herself, drawing circles in the mounds that covered her feet. "I'll bet she never even ruined a dress."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." The voice made her jump, and she scowled as she saw Dimitri standing over her. His face was flushed, but his smile was cheeky and cool as he stepped closer. "From what your mom's told me, your sister had a rebellious phase."

 _Really?_  Despite herself, Jade was interested. "I don't remember that," she said, climbing to her feet and shaking off her skirt. Leaving her boots in the reeds, she stalked down the beach and into the water, letting the shallow waves wash over her ankles.

Undeterred, he followed her into the ocean, wading in up to his shins as though the cold didn't bother him. "Adela said you were really young."

"Oh." She forced herself deeper into the water, moving until it was almost up to her waist. "Can't really picture that." Though, thinking back, she almost remembered a shouting match between Saphri and Adela, one that ended abruptly when Jade came into the room. And for a while her sister's rich brown hair had been fiery red, though their mother had never said anything about it.

"Yep," he replied. "Apparently they fought all the time."

"She never fights  _me_." For reasons Jade couldn't quite understand, that Saphri's rebellion had hurt Adela was insulting. "I guess I never was the important kid."

"Or your mom learned not to make a big deal out of a phase." He shrugged. "She told me she's just waiting it out."

She turned and pushed herself farther out, until she couldn't touch the ground anymore — and, more importantly, neither could he. "What makes you so confident this is a phase?" she demanded, her breath becoming shallow due to the cold. "Maybe this is just who I am, and my  _dear_  mother doesn't know me enough to realize it."

He smirked, then surprised her by swimming out into even deeper water than she was treading. "Everyone, everywhere, has done this oh-so-original rebel-without-a-cause thing.  _I_ did it, your sister did it — hell, even your mom probably did something like it. So I'm gonna assume this is a phase." His eyes met hers, and Jade tried to look like she wasn't hurt by his dismissive attitude. He saw it, though, and a contrite look passed over his face. "Look, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that I've been there, and you're really upsetting your mom. You might end up having a lot of regrets about this in a few years."

The thought of regretting anything was foreign to a fifteen-year-old girl. "What else do you know about my sister?" she asked, giving up on out-swimming him and floating on her back. "Does she say anything else?"

He began to swim laps around her, slicing through the water like a fish and talking between strokes. "That they were good friends. That she wishes Saphri was here —"

"Of course." How could she have expected anything else?

"— for you," he finished, rolling onto his back and continuing to paddle. "Let's see . . . what all did she say? She thinks that you need an older sister to to help you feel like someone's on your side. Give you advice without making you feel trapped, because moms can't do that." He shrugged, somehow making the gesture elegant despite not breaking stroke. "I wouldn't know — never had either. Also says she sees a lot of Saphri in you."

"Now I  _know_ you're making this up."

"Ask her." The statement was simple but it felt like a dare. And honestly, Jade was scared to take him up on that. When Saphri died everything fell apart; bringing it up again — and admitting that she was wrong about her mother — was more than she wanted to deal with.

"Since when did demons become life coaches?" she finally snapped, swimming back to shore.

"Not a demon," he replied, following her with ease. "Just someone."

"Someone." Splashing back onto the sand, she did her best to wring the water out of her dress and hide how cold she was. "I don't think my mother would appreciate me talking alone with just  _someone._ " She was sarcastic, of course; Adela seemed to love Demi more than Jade, and he could probably get away with murder.

"No. She wouldn't." The seriousness of his voice gave her pause, and she turned to see him staring at her with an oddly intense expression, frightening and fascinating at the same time. Sensing her tension, he laughed, shaking his head dry. "You'll want to take care around me," he said cheerfully, "or your mom won't be happy. Goodnight, Jade."

Winking, he stepped around her and headed back up to the house alone, leaving her to stare after him in shock.

* * *

"So . . . how long have you been doing this? Working for the royal family, I mean."

Zelda's escort had been reticent for most of the trip, keeping his gaze straight ahead and answering her questions with short, monosyllabic answers — if he responded at all. More often, he'd acted like she hadn't spoken. She began to wonder if the pardon was fake, that she was really being arrested.

But then again, they'd put her on a horse. If they were arresting her, why would they give her a way to escape?

When the guard just spat into the river they were walking beside, she pleaded, "Come on, talk to me." The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts of death and Sheik and Impa and Dimitri and Daphnes and . . . oh,  _Daphnes,_ they hadn't had a real interaction since he kissed her, and then they'd almost died, and now they would probably have to talk about what happened and that would just be so much and —

The desperation in her voice made him turn around, nearly tripping over a rock and dropping the reins of her horse. (Despite her claims that she was fine, he'd insisted that she take his horse while he walked ahead.) "Miss, you are the paramour of the prince —"

"No I'm not," she interrupted. Not technically, anyway.

He glanced up at her, and she thought she'd spotted a hint of a smile. "Whatever you are, you are a guest of the royal family. We do not speak to people of such importance."

Was that all? "But I'm nobody! I grew up in a cottage half the size of  _any_ of the houses in the market town, and my mother is a schoolteacher. Really, I met Daphnes — I mean the prince — I mean His Majesty — by accident." She shrugged, embarrassed. "I mean, just look at how I'm dressed."

The guard looked her up and down — she was still wearing the maid's smock that had helped them escape from the castle, though it was almost too blood- and dirt-stained and torn to be recognizable as such — and the look on his face was almost paternal. "Since you have been here, my orders have been to watch you carefully, to make sure you never leave the castle grounds, to arrest you on sight, to keep you in the castle  _again_ , and now to escort you with honor. In all my time in the service of the royal family, never has there been a single individual so baffling to the king and queen. It seemed best to be reserved around someone so . . .  _unusual_." He paused, then added, "And I have been under His Highness's employ for almost twenty years now, to answer your question."

She leaned forward against the horse's neck, eager to finally get some conversation. "What'd you do before that? You talk better than I do, and no offense to the other guards, but the ones I've met haven't been that smart. . . ."

He inclined his head to acknowledge her compliment. "I am a captain, Miss. Some education is required. But I was recommended to the post by the crown prince, whom I tutored for many years."

"That was why he wanted you to take me back," she declared, settling back as they approached the first gate. "He's very loyal like that."

Her escort smiled, lifting a hand to the guard stationed there. As the gate opened, he added, "His Highness is very admirable, Miss." They were silent the rest of the way, both lost in thought. At the stables, he helped her down from the horse, but held her hand as she tried to curtsy and walk away. "May I risk impudence, Miss?"

"Sure," Zelda replied. Not that she had much of a choice; the guard had to be around sixty, but his grip, though gentle, was like iron.

"His Highness is a good man, and an intelligent one. But he is idealistic, and I fear where his naiveté will lead him." He took her other hand, holding them both in his own. "I know it is not my place, but it is out of fondness that I ask you to take care of him. To keep him out of foolishness."

She was taken aback by the request, and by the sincerity and affection in the old man's eyes. "I can't promise that . . . he can be pretty stupid sometimes. But I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, Miss." He squeezed her hands once and then dropped them to take her elbow, leading her into the castle and the care of a stern-looking young woman who had been waiting just inside the entranceway.

"You need to come with me," she said, looking over the pardon notice and giving it to a passing maid with a sharp "Get this into the right hands" while somehow managing to curtsy at the same time. "Your room is set up for you, and we will prepare you for the banquet."

"Banquet?" Zelda glanced over her shoulder, searching in vain for the kind guard. "I'm not . . . I just need to talk to the prince."

The woman looked her up and down, her face reading pity mixed with disdain. "Begging your pardon, Miss Zelda, but you cannot meet him looking like that." When Zelda started to object, she added, "Besides, His Majesty is in the library and has asked that no one disturb him until dinner."

"What?" For some reason she'd expected Daphnes to be waiting for her, that he'd want to be notified immediately of her arrival. Could it be that after all that had happened, after inviting her back to the castle, he was trying to avoid her? "Not even me?"

Her disappointment must have been visible, for the lady-in-waiting's expression softened. "His Highness has arranged to meet with you immediately beforehand and accompany you to the banquet. He said . . ." She screwed up her face as she tried to remember the exact wording, "'Tell Miss Zelda that this research is of the utmost importance to our quest'" — She faltered at that last word, unable to keep her eyebrows down — "and that he hopes you are feeling better."

"I am. Can you tell him that?"

The lady-in-waiting's lips twitched as though hiding a smirk, but she said, "I will make sure that it is the first thing he learns of when he leaves the library," with all seriousness.

"Good. Thanks." She pushed aside her disappointment, knowing that he was doing the right thing even if she still thought the quest was hopeless. (And even if she'd hoped her evening would be spent in quiet conversation rather than a banquet.) "Wait . . . what will I wear?"

The woman's no-nonsense attitude emerged again as she took Zelda's arm, leading her up the giant set of stairs. "Don't worry, Miss. We have taken care of that."


	22. Dangerous Backsliding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demi is given a little motivation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of torture and injury.

Nabooru had always prided herself on being the bravest warrior among the Gerudo (whether others agreed was irrelevant). But as she came to the end of the tunnel and saw what was waiting, she automatically stepped closer to Ganondorf.

He smiled down at her, amused but not mocking. "Crazy, isn't it?"

She nodded weakly, staring down at the massive enclosure. The floor ended a few feet away, the walls curving to either side to follow a wide walkway that spiraled up and down the domed structure. Taking a few cautious steps forward, she gazed out and down, watching the walkways twirl down to the large, sandy floor. All along the walls were more tunnels like the one they'd come out of, dotting the walkway and disappearing into the earth. Wooden scaffolding crossed the giant expanse, looking far too fragile for the hundreds of giant bodies that were scaling up and trotting across it, unheedful of any danger.

"What  _are_ they?" The "they" in question were twice as tall as she was, with long arms and short, stubby legs. Their faces were a strange cross between a pig and a bulldog, with wicked-looking tusks curving up from below drooping lips.

"Moblins. I think." He raised his hand as one of the scaffolding-climbing monsters spotted him, at which point it leapt down from its perch — rattling the cave with the impact — and disappeared down a tunnel apparently no worse for the wear. "They hardly speak our language, but it's what they call themselves. From what I can gather, they were used by the last Gerudo king in some war or another. Against the silver ones, whatever those are."

"The Sheikah. They're . . . not our friends." Sometimes Nabooru was shocked by how little her king knew. What had the witches been teaching him? "Silver hair, red eyes. Tend to live in the shadows."

"Red eyes? Shadows?" He gave her a strange look, remembering his mothers' warnings about the red-eyed shadow monsters of the Hylians. "But they were imprisoned here after the war, because . . ." The tip of his tongue pressed against his upper lip, pink against his dusty face, while his eyes got a far-off look as he tried to remember. "'The puny king felt much fear.' I guess he couldn't control them."

As they watched, a nearby Moblin picked up a silver hammer and flicked it almost lazily. That seemingly-accidental move landed with deadly precision on the intersection between the tunnel they'd just left and the walkway. There was a shuddering  _thud_ , an eruption of dust, and when Nabooru could see again, there was a crater in the spot over three feet high. "No kidding. What's keeping them here?"

"Magic? I have no idea, but they can go seemingly anywhere underground. Maybe they're just not smart enough to leave this place." He chuckled, taking her elbow and pulling her to the side as the Moblin swung again, once again a seemingly-clumsy move hitting the exact center of the crater and tripling its depth. "They're remarkable, aren't they?"

She wished she could control her nerves, but with every  _thud_ and cloud of dust she couldn't help but flinch. "What are we doing in here?" she asked.

"Getting out of the storm, first and foremost," he explained, waving his arm at the dark tunnel they'd come down. From there, the sound of the wind was faint as a memory. "Besides, don't you find this cool?"

 _Not exactly_ , she thought, uneasily eyeing the Moblin with the hammer. "It's . . . something, all right." Before she could say any more, there was a thundering _boom_ that shook the earth around them, and a sickening  _crack_ that made her leap forward. Her instincts had been right: no sooner had she abandoned the wall behind them than it trembled with another  _boom,_ and dust tore through them with as much ferocity as the windstorm had. She drew her scimitar with one hand and pulled Ganondorf closer with the other, her hand tightening around a bicep that was firm and warm. As she clung to her king with steely determination and tried to see through the dust, a hammer burst through the wall, smacking the crumbling edges until it created a hole large enough for a small Moblin to fit through.

And a small one  _did_ climb through it, though it was by no means puny. A solid foot taller than Ganondorf — meaning that it towered over Nabooru — it was lithe and sweat-slick, long green symbols painted around its snout and down its torso. These markings and its relatively diminutive size separated it from the other Moblins, though when it turned and snarled something over its shoulder, the monsters on the other side of the wall shrunk back as though afraid.

It turned to Ganondorf, who didn't seem to be even remotely concerned about this new development, and growled something that didn't sound like speech. Her king smiled and plucked Nabooru's hand from his arm, signaling for her to lower her blade. " _Like hell I will,_ " she hissed, though she didn't think the monster would understand even if it heard.

Glaring at her, he strode forward, holding his hands in the air. "Good evening," he said, then made a strange sound, guttural and gravely; for a moment she worried that he was having some sort of stroke, but watching the slow, loud way in which he'd said it, she gathered that this was its name. "You could have simply summoned us to your chambers."

The Moblin made another whining, animalistic noise, and by straining all her attention she could make out words: "Working. This was easier."

"Of course," he replied cheerfully. "And how is the work?" When the creature bobbed its head up and down in a primitive gesture of affirmation, he added, "Well, I am pleased to see the progress. Very impressive."

"Twice as large as last time." Its beady black eyes focused on Nabooru, who was still holding her scimitar up. "That." Its tone never rose, but she could tell that it was asking a question. And not a friendly one.

Ganondorf shot her another poisonous glance, then turned back to the Moblin, shaking his head. "No, no! That's a friend — I mean  _she's_ a friend. The sword is just a precaution that she will  _put away right now_." When she looked at him like he was crazy, he groaned and added, "On the order of her king."

She was concerned — honestly, she was terrified, not that she'd admit it — but she couldn't disobey the king's orders (again). . . . With a scowl, she sheathed her blade, holding her hands up to mimic his. "Pleasure," she said, raising her eyebrows at Ganondorf.

The Moblin looked unconvinced, but turned its attention away from her. "With me," it said, jerking its snout toward the scaffolding. "You have been gone too long. Much to discuss."

He inclined his head. "As you wish. Just give me a moment with my . . . friend."

"We guard her. No mischief."

"No, none at all. Guard her all you want." Turning back to Nabooru, he took her by the shoulders. "Don't do anything stupid. Just stay here and don't make them angry."

She squirmed under his gaze. She really,  _really_ hated it here. "But what if —"

His hands tightened, sending pain through her collarbone as his thumb pressed down on it. "No. You  _will_  stay here. No doing whatever you want, no doing what you think is right.  _Don't move."_ His face, hard and cold, was inches from hers.

She nodded hesitantly. "You got it, Your Highness."

Ganondorf raised an eyebrow at that, and his eyes roved over her face for a moment before pulling back. She knew he was checking to make sure she could be trusted, but the scrutiny made her feel hot all of a sudden, and she was certain she'd blushed. Without another word he turned and followed the Moblin into the twisting blackness of the tunnels. The guards left behind were huge, hulking, and each wielding hammers larger than her upper body. They stood across from her, their unblinking piggy eyes locked on hers.

Nabooru's fingers danced over the hilt of her sword, but she didn't move. She was frozen in place by Ganondorf's attitude and his order, as effective as any spell. The elders always said the command of a King meant to die if need be. A physical force, this loyalty, they'd insisted. She had scoffed, assuming that it would be her courage that led her to obey his orders, not any blood magic. But now she watched as the Moblins idly smacked pebbles at her, hard enough to leave small nicks on her skin and clothes (though they might not have recognized this as abuse, their muscles so strong and their hides so leathery).  _It's not magic_ , she told herself.  _I'm just a good listener._

But she knew  _that_ certainly wasn't true. So either it was blood magic, or he was far more powerful than she'd given him credit for.

Either way she thought that, Moblins or no Moblins, king or no king, Ganondorf was a man she would try never to cross. She might be the best and most courageous warrior in the Gerudo Fortress, but witchcraft and monsters that might have come from Democres itself?

A Moblin flicked another shard of rock at her, grunting in surprise and some amusement when it bounced off her forehead.

She didn't think she could handle that.

* * *

Dimitri had been almost asleep when his hand started to burn. "Back again, are you?" he mumbled, flinging an arm over his eyes. "Whatever you want me to do, it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Hylian bodies need sleep, even if ancient relics don't."

_Wake up._

"You seem to miss the part where I say no. I'm comfortable."

_They will find you out. They will try to kill you. You must go to Hyrule. Tonight. Now._

He groaned and sat up, knowing that he wouldn't get any sleep until he'd let the stupid thing have its say. "I've been here for, what, two weeks now? If the townspeople were going to kill me, they would've by now."

_Adela has sheltered you. She trusted you. But now she will loose her protection._

"Why? I mean, that talk this evening was uncomfortable, but she said I don't scare her. We're safe." _  
_

_You do not understand._ Demi's vision started to blur and waver.

"W-what are you doing?"

_I did not want to do this, but you must see. You must understand._

His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed back onto the sheets.

* * *

Jade took a deep breath, gazing at her reflection in the washbasin with some frustration. Why were her teeth so  _large_? She didn't remember Saphri having giant buck teeth like hers. At least her hair looked good. She tugged at it, knowing that obsessing over her reflection in the middle of the night was ridiculous, beyond ridiculous. Especially when her interest in her appearance had spiked at the arrival of a certain black-haired young demon tamer. . . .

What had he meant when he said she should take care around him? He couldn't be  _that_ scary. Someone that dopey and such a pet of Adela couldn't possibly be dangerous, no matter what she'd seen when he arrived. He was . . . just dangerous enough.

There was a soft knock. She stumbled through the moonlight and opened the door with some hesitation, knowing there was only one person it could be. And there he was.

Demi's eyes were odd, strangely cold, like he was sleepwalking or something; her fears from when they'd first met began to stir around, a cold mist in her stomach. But his smile was the same as ever, bright and amused and just a little knowing. "Hey," he whispered. "I was hoping you'd still be up." Glancing over his shoulder, he turned back to her and grinned. "Wanna go for a swim?"

The look in his eyes still made her uncomfortable, but as he pulled off his shirt in preparation for the beach, she forgot all about her concerns and took his warm, callused hand, letting him lead her out to the water.

* * *

The first thing Dimitri was aware of was blackness, the pure blackness of a starless night. The kind he imagined resided at the bottom of the ocean, where the fish were blind and white from lack of sun.

"Where am I?" he demanded, his voice weak and hollow in the face of all this suffocating darkness. "What happened?"

_You must understand. And remember that your suffering is not my doing._

A flickering light appeared, almost blinding in its suddenness. As it came closer he realized it was a torch held by a large shadowy figure. Taking advantage of his newfound sight, he looked around. "A jail? Why?" But the Dark Triforce seemed to be out of answers for now. "Who are you?" he asked the jailer, hoping that maybe this man would be willing to provide some information — namely, how he'd been taken out of his bed at night and dragged here. He was answered only by the jangle of keys and the scraping of metal. The door opened, and Dimitri stepped out into the firelight, suddenly filled with foreboding. "Please," he moaned weakly, not sure who he was talking to, "I don't understand what I'm doing here."

"Get back!" The man waved his torch at Demi, forcing him back into the cell. He staggered, falling onto the dirty, damp floor. Until it was grinding against his skin, he hadn't realized that the soft linens borrowed from Adela had been replaced with gritty sackcloth, filthy and worn thin at every joint. With difficulty he pushed himself to his knees — difficulty because he was overcome with exhaustion and discomfort, his muscles aching with every pitiful movement made weaker by ravenous hunger, and because of the handcuffs that had rubbed his wrists raw and bleeding. No sooner had he gained a kneeling position than the torchbearer grabbed the chain between his cuffs and yanked him to his feet. "Don't try anything, monster!"

Monster? He opened his mouth to explain that he wasn't a monster (not really) and to ask why he was being so cruelly treated for no reason, but before he could draw breath the man had jerked his cuffs, causing him to stumble into the wall with a yelp of pain. "Is this a dream?" he asked the Dark Triforce in a low mutter. "Because if so, it can end any time."

There was no answer from either the voice or the man.

Dimitri was dragged into a large, windowless room that dripped mold and water down its walls. Underground, he reasoned, near the sea or some tributary. Standing against one wall, in front of a table loaded with metal, was a line of five men. Each was as burly and stone-faced as the torchbearer, and all were staring at him with cold, merciless eyes. Two of the men took each of his arms, holding them apart enough that they pulled against the cuffs, which made his wrists ooze and burn. He held his head up and refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing his pain. They kicked at the backs of his knees, forcing him to collapse into a kneel, his kneecaps knocking against the unforgiving stone. Despite himself, he winced.

One of the men standing before him stepped forward. "It has been decided by the Council of Gish that this beast is to be put to death," he announced, looking down at Demi with disgust and contempt. "At the request of the lady Adela and the wisdom of the elders, we shall first question it about the demonic forces it conspires with."

The foreboding tightened into a hard, leaden knot of fear, and he looked from one face to another, desperately seeking some empathy or softness. He looked in vain. "But why?" he demanded. "What can I possibly have done to any of you?"

Another of the men, his face twisting in fury, stepped forward and spat on him. "You dare ask what you have done?" he snarled, and the remaining two men grabbed his arms, hauling him back against the table. "You disgusting fiend, you vile monster, you think that you can mock us by —"

"Enough, Rosu," the leader said. "It shall answer our questions soon enough." He leaned forward, studying Dimitri's face as though he could read the answers there. With a disdainful shrug, he stepped back and gestured toward the torchbearer. "If you would."

"Would what?" He began to struggle against his captors as they dragged him over to the wall and shackled him to it, removing his handcuffs in order to do so but guarding him so well that he could only thrash helplessly. His voice rose to an anguished shriek: " _What are you doing to me?_ "

The torchbearer, not looking especially pleased but with a sense of grim satisfaction, strode over to the table. As the men stepped aside, he saw a number of wicked-looking instruments and a high-pitched whine of panic rang through his ears. What if, despite all common sense, this  _wasn't_  a dream?

Indifferent to the terror of the young man before him, the jailer — torturer — picked up a long whip. A cat-of-nine-tails, Demi knew, small pottery-tipped whips attached to the business end of the larger one. He appraised it, glanced at his victim, then laid that on the table. Picking up a broadsword, he screwed on a variety of crude, sharp instruments like fishing hooks and tiny knives and more shreds of glass and clay. He knew what it did, and felt sick just looking at it. He'd read about that thing: it impaled the body, and the man would only have to turn the sword around for the attachments to . . .

"We want him to survive long enough to give us information, Kenn," the leader reminded him, and he bowed his head in acquiescence, resting it on the table. He repeated this several times, selecting many — Goddess, so  _many_  — tools, each looking more painful than the last, before laying them down again.

Finally the man chose the second one. Had it been any but that, Dimitri might have been able to be strong. But at the sight of it something in him snapped, and he collapsed on the ground as far as he could, bowing his head and sobbing. He had read enough to know that the preparing-of-the-torture-devices the supposed to panic the victim. It worked.

"No," he whispered. He was begging now, his body controlled by the fear. The gut-wrenching panic was chewing up his insides more than that device would, as was the terrifying suspicion that dream or real, this was going to hurt and maybe even kill him. "Please . . . please. Don't kill me. Don't come near me with that. DON'T TOUCH ME!" His pleas rose to a shriek, and he scrabbled at the floor with his feet, yanking at his bonds with no success.

"Now Kenn," the leader reminded, but the latter held up one hand. Emotionlessly he picked up Dimitri, gesturing for the two who had shackled him to hold him upright. The man slowly lined up the sword with his navel. Demi sucked in his stomach and twisted to the side, trying to avoid it.

"What demon's your ally?" he asked softly.

"I-I . . . what am I doing here? Please, I don't understand, I can't, I don't . . ." His mind was screaming panic, unable to think.  _Wake me up_ , he begged the Dark Triforce,  _let this be fake and wake me up now._

Kenn was undeterred. Pressing slightly on the sword, so that it made a dimple in the tender skin of his stomach, he asked instead, "Why're you here? Plannin' something worse than what you alriddy did?"

He shook his head, his face dripping with tears and sweat. "I don't know — I don't remember — you have to believe me!" Realizing that this was having no effect, he directed his attention to the thing that had led him here. " _What did you do?_ "

_I need you to understand what your fate is if you fail to leave this island._

"So — so this is a dream? It's not real?" The man slammed forward, ignoring his gibberish; Demi wondered if he could even hear it. The sword neatly entered him and stopped before exiting the other side, but the attachments weren't so clean. They tore through skin and muscle, destroying everything they passed through.

He screamed and arched his back, his muscles spasming uncontrollably.  _It's not real,_ he told himself,  _it's not real it's not real why does it hurt if it's not real —_ _  
_

"Kenn," the leader repeated, his tone sharp with warning.

"If it stays in, it plugs him up good," Kenn explained. "Can't bleed to death."

 _They will treat you like an animal,_ the Dark Triforce warned over Demi's wretched screams.  _To them, you are a monster, so they will feel no guilt as they torment you._

"I understand!" he gasped, shuddering and jerking as Kenn twitched the sword, infinitesimal movements that shredded his insides. "I understand, I get it, I'll leave, just let me wake up now!"

_I never wanted to hurt you, Dimitri. I only wanted you to see._

"I see, I fucking see now MAKE IT END! I won't tell you anything, not a goddamn thing, praise Aradvikken and I'm not sorry for what I did, whatever it was, so just KILL ME!" He didn't know who he was talking to, because the jailer kept twitching the sword and filling his head with blood and agony. All he knew was that he'd say whatever he wanted to anyone he needed to in order to end this somehow, a pain that could not be expressed or even fathomed.

As his vision faded and sensation blissfully ebbed, the last thing he was aware of was the leader saying, "Awful thing he did to Adela's girl. And her just a kid and all."

* * *

"So what made you decide to go swimming?" Jade asked. Demi hadn't said anything as they walked down the beach, and she had to break the silence. She watched his broad, tan back lead the way to the water, intrigued at how the muscles moved.

She'd never seen a boy before. Not really. Not like this.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied breezily, but like his mind was focused on something else. "Needed some fresh air."

Jade was worried that he seemed so preoccupied because he found her boring. Hurrying to his side, she said, "Yeah, I do that all the time. It's . . . uh, peaceful."

"Yes. Peaceful." He smiled down at her, his eyes still wrong. "I wish I could stay here forever."

"Well . . . why couldn't you?" She knew it was a stupid question, a  _desperate_ question, but she couldn't help asking. "I mean, my — Adela likes you, and I know it's kinda boring, but I could show you the coves and the town — you haven't even been there yet — and maybe we could go sailing . . ."

He reached out and took her hand. "Maybe I will. Who knows?" His eyes trailed down her neck, watching it flush with pleasure and cold. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"What? No." She was tempted to snap something sarcastic at him, but she was trying so hard to act like an adult and not . . . what had he called her? A rebel without a cause? "It's just a little cold, no big deal."

"If you're uncomfortable it's a big deal." He held out one arm at shoulder height, and after a moment of hesitation she curled up under it, her bare shoulder brushing against the soft hairs of his underarm. She giggled and he glanced down at her. "Something wrong?"

"No, no . . . It's just that I've never walked on the beach with a boy before." Embracing a moment of boldness, Jade snuggled closer against his side. "It's nice."

He stopped, and she wondered if something had been wrong. Should she have pretended to be more experienced? "Never?" When she shook her head sheepishly, one side of his mouth twitched up in a half-smile. "Have you ever been kissed on the beach by a boy before?"

"Noooo," she said, drawing the word out to hide her nerves. "But you're not a boy. You're a demon." Peering up at him through her eyelashes, she added, "But I've never been kissed by a demon either," before dropping her gaze to her toes.

Had she been looking up at his face she would have seen that sleepwalking look briefly transform into one of fury, but by the time she met his gaze again it was under control. Putting one hand under her chin and tilting it up to his, he whispered, "Would you like to be?"

"Yes," she breathed, and for a moment there was nothing else.

* * *

Adela jerked awake, seemingly for no reason. Everything was still and calm, shades of silver and blue in the light of the moon.  _Must be my nerves_ , she told herself, climbing out of bed and heading to a water pitcher.  _Shouldn't drink wine so close to retiring._ As she poured herself a glass, she wondered about Dimitri. Such a nice boy, but with a wicked streak buried underneath it, one that enjoyed teasing her young Jade.

And underneath that . . .

Her gaze wandered to the open window, and for a moment she watched the swaying silvery reeds, the steely waves, the white sand. It really  _was_ odd, waking up so suddenly like that. Like someone had whispered in her ear, or prodded her with their finger. In fact . . . She rubbed her bare upper arm, imagining for a moment that she could feel the imprint of such a finger.  _No more wine_ , she resolved, returning to her bed.

As she passed the window, however, she thought she saw two shapes disappearing into the dunes, faint and small in the dim light. It concerned her, but she chalked it up to imagination and thought nothing of it.

Not until twenty minutes or so later, when her daughter's scream rang through the still cool air.

* * *

When vision returned, Dimitri half expected to see Kenn and the Council of Gish, half expected to feel the searing agony. But the other half of him expected to see his bedroom in Adela's home, to feel the sweat-soaked bedsheets but otherwise be warm and safe.

Kneeling on the beach, yanking his pants up over his hips to protect himself against the biting wind, was so far from the expected outcomes that for a moment he could do nothing but gaze down at Jade, who was sprawled along the sand without a stitch on and blood running down her thighs, unconscious but alive. Her chest was heaving like she'd been sprinting.

"What did you do?" he whispered, his fingers trailing gently over Jade's neck; there were purple finger-shaped bruises circling her neck, and the girl's panting suddenly made sense. "What did  _I_ do?"

_What you wanted._

He shook his head, disoriented and horrified. "I never . . ." His head snapped up. "Zelda."

_So you remember. I had assumed that would be a reasonable motivator, but when dreams of her seemed to do nothing, I knew that I needed a stronger one. Perhaps you were growing too attached to this young one to remember our true purpose._

"What are you talking about?"

_We both have business in Hyrule, business that you seem to have forgotten._

No matter how many time Dimitri shook his head, he couldn't make this image disappear like the dream. It was real, all right. "Why?" he finally asked. "Why that awful . . ."

_You needed to know what would happen if you stayed here._

"But it  _won't_. Why should it? I haven't —"

_You impregnated and attempted to strangle a young girl. A girl who saw your eyes turn red and your hair brown before you did so, who noticed the hand that strangled her had a black triangle on it._

"I never . . ." A horrifying thought occurred to him, so awful that he didn't know how to vocalize it. "Did I . . . did she want . . . ?"

_I lack the experience to be completely sure, but she seemed to enjoy it. Rape was not part of my intention, nor was murder. I wanted to infuriate them enough to kill you, not to hunt you down once you'd left the island._

He stumbled to his feet, shaking his head in horror. To avoid looking at the scene, he buried his face in his hands and moaned. "No, no, no. I can't do this anymore. Get out of my head, get out of my hand —" He was cut off by a strangled sob, and clutched at his hair until it seemed he'd pull it out.

_Get off this island. I awoke the old woman, and she is coming for you. Your things are in that dune; I had placed them there before fetching the child. Go._

Finding that the voice was right — of course it was right, it was always right — he clasped his bag to his chest and staggered backward, listening as the voice told him where to run, which boat to take, how to set his sails for Hyrule.

He had no other choice.


End file.
